American Road Trip
by Rae Roberts
Summary: A sequel to American Witch at Hogwarts. Severus Snape's POV. Not particularly fluffy. Be warned: fade to black rather than smut. AU as of the publication of HBP, but as canon compliant as possible under the circumstances.
1. Should I Stay or Should I Go ?

Disclaimer and author's notes:

I don't claim to own any copyrighted material.

This story is a sequel to American Witch at Hogwarts. I'm not saying you have to read that one first--in fact I'm not exactly proud of American Witch at Hogwarts--but the sequel probably won't make a darn bit of sense if you don't. As of the publication of HBP, both stories are hopelessly AU.

There will be no significant involvement of canon characters other than Severus Snape. Constructive criticism is, as always, eagerly sought. Thank you for reading.

——————

American Road Trip by Rae Roberts

Severus Snape scowled at the dimly glowing computer screen. He'd read and re-read each email from Alex Rose, and couldn't discover anything amiss. There were no hints that she was in danger, no requests for help, no coded messages. Of course, there were no hints that they had ever been lovers, either. Snape shrugged. His own brief replies to her emails had been coldly formal. Neither of them were the type to exchange sonnets. The corners of his mouth curled up in amusement at the thought. A moment later, the scowl had returned. Snape was fascinated by Thaumaturgy, the melding of magic and technology that Alex had introduced him to during her one year tenure at Hogwarts, but he had to admit that the computer had some serious drawbacks as a means of communication. Unlike a hand-written letter, there was no way to check Alex's emails for authenticity. "_L'arresto cessa_," he murmured, tapping the laptop with his wand and closing it with a click.

"_Accio letter_." Irritably, Snape read over the cryptic message he'd received from Remus Lupin two weeks ago. The werewolf had gone on holiday to the States and had visited Alex at her father's home. The parchment in his hand was definitely from Lupin; it was written in his familiar sprawling script, addressed to _The Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. No doubt Lupin had hoped to reach Albus Dumbledore. Snape's scowl deepened. The headmaster had been gone for weeks, on a vital mission for the Order of the Phoenix. Filius Flitwick was in charge of answering Dumbledore's mail. He had opened the letter and then passed it on to Snape without comment. The werewolf clearly believed that Alex was in some sort of danger, but could offer no proof. "Lupin is an idiot," Snape muttered. Lupin was also incommunicado, for all practical purposes. After sending the transatlantic owl message, he'd continued his travels. By now, he might be anywhere on the vast North American continent. Not that Snape had any intention of seeking him out. He would have to make a decision soon, but for now, Snape had a great deal of work to do to be ready for the upcoming term. Decisively, he banished Lupin's irritatingly vague warning. Pulling out a ledger and a stack of bills, he picked up a freshly sharpened feather quill and began to write.

It was late in the afternoon when Snape set his quill down for a moment before turning the page. He paused to rub his forehead with one hand, trying to dislodge the ache that had settled determinedly between his brows. _Time for a headache potion ? No. Not yet. Finish another page first,_ he decided. He hated giving in to the minor pain, subconsciously rejecting the analgesic potion as a sign of weakness. Instead, on a whim, Snape placed his palm against one of the drawer fronts of his desk. Responding to his touch, the drawer slid open easily and he extracted a small, framed photograph. He'd found the memento in his private quarters at the end of the last term, after seeing Alex onto the Hogwarts Express.

The picture was empty, showing nothing but the background. Snape chuckled as the subject finally peeked coyly around the edge of the frame. He doubted that insecurity was what Alex had wanted her photographic image to portray. Emboldened, the little figure stepped into full view, dressed in a revealing black lace gown. She struck a seductive pose, showing an enticing glimpse of one shapely leg through the gown's thigh-high slit. Not for the first time, Snape found himself wondering who she'd had take the snapshot. His features relaxed into a grin as Alex's image smiled and blew him a kiss. Just then, green flames rose up in the fireplace.

Snape assumed a cold expression and casually slid the photo back into its drawer, but no head appeared in the flames. Instead, Flitwick's voice piped, "May I see you for a moment, Professor Snape ?"

"Of course." He reset the locking spell on the desk drawer with the palm of his hand and stepped to the hearth, tossing in a pinch of floo powder. "The Deputy Headmaster's office," Snape intoned.

——————

Professor Flitwick had been named Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts shortly after Minerva McGonagall's 'death' in the spring. Only a select few in the wizarding world knew that McGonagall was still alive and working in secret for the Order of the Phoenix. Snape recalled the staff meeting when Albus Dumbledore had announced Flitwick's appointment to the post. He'd immediately scowled, thinking of the weeks he'd spent taking care of most of McGonagall's administrative duties. _Of course I wouldn't be considered for promotion,_ he told himself with a mental sneer. _Not with my tarnished reputation as a Death Eater. Naturally, Dumbledore will ever so kindly explain that he feels I have enough on my plate..._

Dumbledore's voice had interrupted his bitter thoughts. "Severus, I know you have more than enough on your plate right now, with your dangerous work for the Order—" Snape had briefly closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "—speaking of which, I need to have a word with both you and Filius in my office after the staff meeting."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Fifteen minutes later, Snape had been seated in across from Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. "Minerva's and my missions for the Order will continue to keep me away from Hogwarts a great deal, Severus. I know you've always reported directly to me after your spying missions, but under the circumstances, I feel a change is necessary."

"Of course. I can put aside my differences with Mad-Eye Moody for the good of the Order. All I ask is that he show me the same courtesy I extend to him." _Wonderful,_ he'd thought sarcastically. _Just wonderful. _Snape had taken a small amount of comfort in the idea that Moody would be equally repulsed at their having to work together.

Again, Dumbledore's voice had interrupted his thoughts. "I have no desire to make your situation even more unpleasant, Severus. I wouldn't ask you to work so closely with Alastor."

"With whom, then ? Shacklebolt ? Weasley ?" Dumbledore had given a significant glance toward the other occupant of the room. Snape's eyes had shot to where Flitwick sat sucking enthusiastically on a peppermint humbug, his little feet swinging as they dangled a foot above the floor. His stomach had given a sickening lurch. "No. You can't possibly mean..."

From his perch on the chair, Flitwick had simpered and waved at him.

——————

As McGonagall's office—now Flitwick's—spun into view, Snape reflected on how his opinion of the flighty little Charms professor had risen immeasurably in the past two months. He wondered briefly if anyone else even suspected that Flitwick's cheery, scatterbrained air of benign eccentricity was a facade. A facade the tiny mage had maintained without the slightest crack for more than seven decades. Brushing soot from his shoulders impatiently, Snape stepped from the fireplace.

The wizened little wizard was still making his laborious way from the hearth to the desk. As always, Snape wondered how he managed the sprightly pace he displayed in public. Force of will wasn't enough to account for it, although Snape was now well aware that he possessed that quality to an astounding degree. Flitwick's bowed legs were simply too crippled to allow him to hop about the way he did without the aid of magic. _He uses some sort of self-mobilicorpus spell, _Snape guessed. He suspected that, in public, Flitwick's feet stopped the merest fraction of an inch before making contact with the floor, but hadn't yet been able to maneuver himself to a position where he could tell for sure. He schooled his features to hide his curiosity as Flitwick finally hauled himself into his seat.

"Ah, Severus. Minerva told me these would require your attention." Flitwick passed a sheaf of parchments across the desk. Snape noted, once again, that his hands were disproportionately large and strangely graceful, untouched by the arthritis that had ravaged the rest of his body.

The oddly beautiful hands were offering the supply lists for returning students, Snape saw. "This will only take a few moments," he assured the older wizard as he took the letters from him. Rapidly, Snape sorted through the pile, tossing most back to Flitwick to sign. On the remaining letters, he penned a brief note at the bottom, aware of the other wizard's scrutiny as he did so. Instead of the generic Deputy Headmaster's signature, selected Slytherin students received a personal message from their Head of House.

Flitwick shook his head ruefully as he activated a Quick-Quotes quill to affix his signature to each letter in the pile before him. "Slytherin House has more than its fair share of, um, unusual traditions," he noted. "No offense meant, of course."

"None taken." Only the scions of the best pure-blood Slytherin families were honored with a personal message. _I certainly never got one during my student years,_ Snape thought dryly. It was simply another way to widen the gulf between the privileged few and the common masses. After years as Head of Slytherin, the phrases flowed easily. _Duty, tradition... pride and dignity... _and of course, for those known to be supporters of the Dark Lord, _glory and honor... _Snape paused to consider Pansy Parkinson's letter, quill hovering indecisively for just a moment. The Parkinson and Malfoy matriarchs would likely compare their offspring's notes. He carefully phrased three sentences that were just the barest shade less cordial than those he had composed for young Draco. _That ought to do it,_ Snape thought with satisfaction.

"Forgive my curiosity, Severus, but doesn't Miss Bulstrode merit at least a line or two ?" Flitwick queried, holding up a rectangle of parchment.

"Millicent Bulstrode's great-great-great-great grandfather made the mistake of marrying a Muggle-born witch," Snape explained patiently. He covered his amusement at Flitwick's reaction with his customary sneer. "Eight generations is the bare minimum for true purity, you should know that, Flitwick. If Miss Bulstrode marries well, her progeny may one day receive a personal note." _Which will no doubt be handed down as a cherished family heirloom_, he thought sardonically.

"Incredible. How on earth do you keep track ?"

"As Head of Slytherin, I have access to records that go back nearly to the founding of Hogwarts. But I believe Narcissa Malfoy has the same information memorized," he couldn't help adding with a smirk.

"Indeed," Flitwick deadpanned. "How else would she plan the seating arrangements at her dinner parties ? There is one more thing, Severus," he added as Snape turned toward the fireplace.

"Yes ?"

"Have you seen this ?" Snape blinked. A glossy brochure had suddenly appeared in Flitwick's long fingers. "An international conference on Thaumaturgy," the little mage read aloud, "to be held in New York City a week from... tomorrow. You have an interest in magical computers, do you not ?"

Snape instinctively blocked his thoughts as he met the other wizard's mild blue gaze. He knew exactly what Flitwick was getting at. _I have nothing to indicate that Alex would welcome my presence in New York. For all I know, she is remaining at her father's home of her own free will. _He arched a dark eyebrow at Flitwick, continuing to shield his mind in case the other professor was attempting Legilimency. _For all I know, our affair ended when she boarded the Hogwarts Express last spring._ At that moment, it occurred to Snape that he would far rather face the Dark Lord than risk the humiliation of being rebuffed by a woman who might no longer have an interest in him. _Cowardice_, Snape decided. _Simple cowardice_. He kept his face blank, suppressing a sneer of self-contempt. It simply would not do. He had faced far worse. "If you can spare me, Professor..." It had taken less than a second for Snape to make his decision.

"Oh, we'll manage, Severus," Flitwick said lightly. "I think it would be wise for someone from the staff to attend. In time, we might be able to offer a course in basic Thaumaturgy here at Hogwarts."

"Considering that magical computers are still banned in Great Britain, Flitwick, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Snape flung the floo powder across the hearth with slightly more force than was strictly necessary.

Flitwick's high-pitched voice followed him as the emerald flames whirled him away. "Nevertheless, I will look forward to hearing all about it when you return."

——————

Chapter title courtesy of The Clash


	2. Americana

Four days after his conversation with Flitwick, Severus Snape found himself in Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions in an extremely surly mood. It had been years since he'd had to endure a fitting. Diagon Alley's most popular clothing shop kept all its costumers' measurements on file, so whenever he needed a new garment he simply ordered a duplicate of one he already owned. Unfortunately, Snape's usual robes would make him stand out in a most unwelcome fashion in the United States, where the boundaries between the wizarding and Muggle worlds were not as clearly defined as they were in Great Britain. He scowled down at the tailor who was circling him like a moth around a flame, making minute adjustments to the Muggle-style suit he'd reluctantly chosen. Snape fidgeted as the short, greying wizard made fluttering gestures with his wand. "I do not like all this padding in the shoulders," he complained.

"If you would stop fidgeting sir, the fitting would go much more quickly," the tailor said pointedly around a mouthful of straight pins.

Snape noted sourly that the man never seemed to use any of the pins for tailoring purposes, but only to accentuate his speech. "I do not like the fit of the shoulders," he repeated. "It is too constricting."

The tailor compressed his lips, shifting the pins to one side. "The padding is required to get the proper silhouette," he pointed out. "If you take a dueling stance, sir, you'll see that the jacket doesn't restrict your movement any more than your robes do." He gestured to a tall cheval mirror standing in a corner of the room.

The mirror shuffled forward on its carved wooden legs, offering Snape a view of himself in the offending suit jacket. "He's right," the mirror drawled. "With your build, you need those shoulder pads."

Snape struck a duelist's pose as the tailor had suggested, pointing his wand at the talking mirror. "The décor in this room might be improved by judicious application of a reductor curse," he suggested softly.

"At second glance, your shoulders seem quite broad enough," the mirror amended hastily. It shuffled backward toward its corner.

"As you can see, the jacket does not unduly hamper movement," the tailor said, pursing his lips speculatively, causing the pins to shift yet again. Snape wondered, briefly, what it would look like if the man accidentally swallowed them. The thought had entertained him more than once before. The tailor held up a hand to stop the mirror's retreat. "Might I suggest, sir, that along with the change of style, you might consider a change of color as well ? Perhaps a pearl grey linen with an olive silk tie ?" Before Snape could protest, he transfigured the suit with a swoop of his wand. The mirror shuddered as Snape glared at his reflection, then fixed the tailor with a look of disbelieving scorn. "No, that doesn't do a thing for your complexion, does it ?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring Snape's glare. Another flutter of the wand, and the suit reverted to black, then lightened almost imperceptibly. The tailor nodded decisively. "A _very_ dark charcoal grey... This is a tropical weight worsted, sir, with a permanent wrinkle repelling charm. Let's try a scarlet necktie for a splash of color—"

"Absolutely not."

"Black, then. No splash of color." The tailor's voice was resigned. The pins drooped momentarily. "I shall have your selections delivered within the next twenty-four hours. You will want the same interior pocket design as on your usual robes ? The welt pocket on the left side ?" Snape nodded curtly as he shrugged out of the jacket. "Very good, sir. Enjoy your holiday in the States."

——————

Back at Hogwarts three days later, Snape selected assorted potions and packets of ingredients from his private stores and slipped each one in turn into the inside pocket of his new suit jacket. The magical pocket held everything without a visible bulge. Under even the most careful search, the pocket would appear to be empty. Snape smiled wolfishly—that little bit of custom tailoring was worth every galleon he paid for it. He added the briefcase containing his new laptop computer, the pocket's opening magically expanding to allow him to slide it in. Snape buttoned the jacket and patted one of the normal pockets of the suit, checking to make sure he had his passport. At last, after a final glance around the office, he picked up his suitcase and left the dungeon. From the gates of Hogwarts, Snape apparated to an alleyway in a shabby section of London. A few steps up the street stood an out-of-service Muggle call box. After scanning the surroundings, Snape stepped inside and dialed. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. State your name and business, please," came a female voice from the air in front of him.

"Severus Snape. I have an appointment in the Department of Transportation." He took the silver badge dispensed by the dilapidated pay phone and pinned it to his lapel as the call box descended to the Ministry Atrium. Snape made his way to an office on Level Six. He hadn't been down on this level since his apparation test some twenty years before. Down the hallway from the testing office was the office of Long-Distance Apparation. A perky witch in blue pinstriped uniform robes stood behind a tall desk in an anteroom fitted with a row of uncomfortable-looking chrome and leatherette chairs. Several other witches and wizards sat waiting. Snape handed the attendant the ticket he'd purchased earlier and submitted to a wand inspection and search of his suitcase, suppressing the urge to grin. The contraband the attendant was checking for was all safely hidden in his pocket. With the formalities completed, Snape paced in front of a false window depicting driving rain and gale-force winds. His eyes scanned the other occupants of the waiting room, his good mood fading as the wait dragged on. A middle-aged witch and wizard sat side-by-side, ignoring one another with the complacency of long familiarity, flipping through outdated magazines. He noted the matching wedding bands on their left hands. A jittery young man, barely out of his teens, met Snape's eyes and hastily looked away. _Wand in the left jacket pocket_, Snape noted automatically, gripping his own wand and mentally reviewing half a dozen hexes before he stopped himself with a sigh of impatience. _Get a hold of yourself. He's simply nervous about apparating. _

Finally, Snape's name was called. The attendant officiously checked his ticket and passport once more before ushering him into a long, featureless hall. At the end were white double doors labeled _Transatlantic Apparation_. Here were more attendants in blue uniforms accented with jaunty caps and silk scarves adorned with the Union Jack. One bustled forward to check his passport and ticket yet again while another performed a second search of his suitcase. "Have you left your luggage unattended at any point since leaving home ?" the second attendant asked.

"Of course not." Snape rolled his eyes.

"Just step onto the platform," still another attendant directed. "Concentrate on the painting, please. Grip your suitcase firmly and await further instructions." A life-size oil painting hung on the wall in front of the small, carpeted platform, depicting a room nearly identical to the one he was currently standing in. Candles in sconces on either side of the painting flickered with a red glow. As he watched the painting a faint popping sound occurred and a figure appeared, stepping shakily off the destination platform. It was the nervous young man from the waiting room. From behind him, the first attendant tutted disapprovingly. "Tried to do it all on his own, didn't he ?" she remarked to the wizard standing beside her. "Tired himself out." The boy tottered out of view beyond the frame and a moment later the candles flickered green.

"Relax and apparate on the count of three," the attendant said brightly. "We will provide the necessary magic to cover the distance. Just relax and apparate as you normally would." Snape could feel his shoulders tensing as four attendants stepped into place around the platform and leveled their wands at him. He took a deep breath and focused on the painting of his destination. "One, two... Three !" With a loud pop, Snape left Great Britain.

———————

He arrived moments later in the Long-Distance Apparation Terminal beneath LaGuardia airport. The attendants here wore navy blue Muggle-style uniforms, with their silk scarves tied in perky bows. Snape's luggage was subjected to the same pointless search while a witch with a long, dark braid and a heavy Indian accent subjected Snape himself to a list of questions. At last his passport was stamped and he was directed to the Welcome Office. A middle-aged witch with blond hair and traces of a German accent presided over a small paneled room with low benches set up in front of a huge Muggle device. _A television,_ Snape recalled. "Presentations are every fifteen minutes," she told him as he made his way to the exit. He sighed. Apparently the 'welcome' was mandatory. He noticed the same nervous young wizard who'd apparated just before him, now sitting slumped on a bench eating peanuts from a small foil pouch.

Snape perused the posters on the walls while he waited for the presentation to begin. Each one was titled _Do Not Mistake These Muggle Types for Wizarding Folk ! _ They depicted various American Muggles in their native dress and habitat. The first poster showed a group of five thin, surly teenagers dressed all in black, with deathly pale complexions and dark-shadowed eyes. _Goths_, read the caption, _Not to be Mistaken for Vampires_. Snape shrugged. He could see the possibility for error. With the exception of the prosthetic fangs, they didn't look much different from his own Slytherins during exams week. He moved on to the next poster, showing a trio of middle-aged men in assorted outmoded military costumes, clutching Muggle weapons. This one was captioned _Re-Enactors—Usually Harmless_. He continued his circuit of the room, passing photographic examples of Clerics, Drag Queens, Medieval History Enthusiasts, and a group of stern-faced individuals in black robes which bore the caption _Supreme Court Justices_. The next poster gave Snape pause for a moment before he realized it wasn't Professor Trelawney. _New-Age Religious Fanatic,_ read the caption, _May Claim Magical Abilities_. "I didn't know Sibyll had ever traveled to the United States," Snape commented under his breath with a smirk. Just then, the lights dimmed. Music began to flow from speakers set high in the walls. Having never watched television before, Snape was intrigued. He took a seat.

The Muggle screen glowed to life. The presentation consisted of dire warnings delivered in a cheery voice-over. Scenes flashed by of hapless foreign wizards and witches making all sorts of social gaffes that inevitably resulted in visits to either the hospital or the Muggle Police. "Wizarding folk should try not to draw undue attention to themselves," the cheerful voice cautioned as the screen displayed a group of witches, brooms in tow, inadvertently wreaking havoc at a Muggle shopping mall.

Snape shook his head in disbelief as the witches were handcuffed and led away by burly mall security guards and the screen went blank once more. It seemed hard to believe that even sheltered British wizarding folk could really be so obtuse. The lights came back up and he exited the room with relief. On the sidewalk outside the airport terminal, he hailed a yellow taxi cab. The bearded driver wore a large pink turban. "Take me to the Plaza Hotel," Snape enunciated carefully, slightly concerned. "That's in Manhattan, Fifth Avenue," he added, consulting the convention brochure. "Do you understand ?" _Are there no actual Americans in America ?_

The driver met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Sure man, no problem," he replied in heavily-accented English. As the cab shot off, weaving in and out through the heavy rush-hour traffic, Snape leaned back in the seat and relaxed. As soon as he'd checked in to his hotel, he would be able to check up on Alex.

———————

Chapter title courtesy of Ray Davies


	3. A Certain Shade of Green

Snape selected a small vial of cobalt-blue potion and set it on the bedside table, then began to move through the small suite of rooms methodically. He hung the 'do not disturb' sign on the outer door and disconnected the ornate marble fireplace from the floo network. Not satisfied with those precautions, he continued his circuit of the suite, casting wards against entry and charms against eavesdropping at each window, hearth, and door. Finally satisfied, he hung his jacket neatly on a hanger in the closet, loosened his tie, and kicked off his shoes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape summoned a calibrated spoon and measured out a precise dose of the potion. A full bottle would guarantee a restful night's sleep, but it would take far less than eight hours to look in on Alex via the bond they shared.

The bizarre link between them had been a source of annoyance more than anything else since it had first manifested last winter. When either of them was asleep, they could see and hear—even feel, to a certain extent—anything the other experienced. Snape suppressed a shudder. _Thank Merlin the bond is an anomaly, not shared by all who bear the Dark Mark. _The last thing he needed was the Dark Lord invading his dreams—or worse, for the Dark Lord to be able to have visions of his own illicit activities ! _Alex is bad enough,_ Snape thought. _For the daughter of a Dark wizard, she possesses an inconvenient set of morals. _

Thus the experiments with the sleeping draught. It was simply too bothersome to have to explain himself to her every time he needed to work outside the law. A spoonful of the cobalt elixir, and within five minutes he could be reasonably certain that she was awake and would remain so long enough for him to complete his business undetected. Snape couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how Alex had finally begun to suspect that he might be taking advantage of the link to spy on her. For months, he'd refused to admit that the dream-bond between them went both ways, but she had eventually caught him out. _For once in my misbegotten life, however, getting caught was actually enjoyable._ _Most enjoyable..._ Snape snorted and put aside the frivolous memory. He swallowed the spoonful of potion and stretched out on the bed.

———————

Alex was standing at a window hung with lacy curtains, looking out on a view of manicured lawns stretching to green wooded hills beyond. She sighed and turned away, running her eyes over a twin-size canopy bed awash in frilly linens, shelves where books vied with stuffed animals for space, and pale purple walls adorned with posters of rock stars. Letting out another sigh, she flopped down in an overstuffed chair and picked up a book. A compendium of simple potions, Snape saw, suitable for a young child just beginning to study magic. Alex was still staring at the same recipe, one for removing freckles, when the vision ended abruptly.

The dose of sleeping draught had worn off. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall every detail as, dream-like, the vision faded. _She was in her childhood room... being kept there against her will, perhaps ?_ He scowled. He didn't have enough information to be sure of anything. _Seeing her chained in a dungeon would have been preferable, in this instance._ He snorted again and rose to retrieve the laptop computer.

_Alex,_

_I will be in town for the next two days to attend a conference. I am staying at the Plaza Hotel, Suite 13-B. _

_Yours,_

_S. Snape_

_There,_ Snape thought with satisfaction as he hit the 'send' button. _One couldn't possibly be more obvious. If Alex is being held captive, I should receive a message with an excuse not to see me._ He couldn't suppress the thought that he might receive an excuse for a completely different reason. _She might not want to see me, end of story. _He shrugged and straightened his tie, intending to go out and get dinner while he waited for a response to his email.

To his surprise, an owl icon appeared on the laptop's screen. A melodic voice announced, "You have mail."

Snape raised an eyebrow and tapped the keyboard. Alex's reply appeared on the screen.

_Severus,_

_The moron at the front desk says he can't reconnect your room to the floo network without your permission. Do you want me to visit you or not ?_

_Alex_

Snape blinked. That was quite a bit faster than he'd expected. He typed a response:

—_Do you want me to visit you or not ?_

_Yes. _

_Just a moment._

Quickly, he smoothed the bedspread and banished the potion bottle and spoon. He took a last look around, making sure there was nothing to arouse Alex's suspicions, before stepping into the little sitting room. Snape pulled one of the armchairs closer to the hearth, blocking exit from the right side of the fireplace, then stepped to the left and murmured a shield charm before reconnecting the room to the floo network. Almost instantly, green flames blossomed in the grate and a tiny form whirled into view, rapidly becoming larger. Alex stepped onto the hearth in a cloud of black soot which immediately dispersed as the hotel's soot-repellent charm automatically took effect.

"Severus ! Why didn't you tell me you were coming to New Yor—" Alex's smile faded as she took in his stern expression behind the glowing shield. Snape waved his wand and disconnected the fireplace once again. "Paranoid, are we ?"

"Cautious," he corrected her, wand at the ready. "Tell me, Alex, what did we do last Christmas Eve ?"

She grinned up at him. "You tricked me into another flying lesson. In the woods, in the freezing cold. We were gathering Hogwart's yearly supply of mistletoe. Do you believe it's me, or are you going to break out the veritaserum ? Sheesh."

"_Finite incantatum."_ Snape relaxed and stepped back, allowing her to enter the room.

For a fraction of a second, Alex seemed about to embrace him. She apparently thought better of it and instead strode past him to look out the window onto the Manhattan skyline. The towering skyscrapers were outlined in tarnished gold by the setting sun. "Have you had a chance to do any sightseeing yet ?"

"I only just arrived this afternoon."

Alex turned back to smile wickedly at him. "And you emailed me right away ? Aw, Severus, that is so _sweet_. Missed me, did you ?"

"No."

"Bastard," she said, without hostility.

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched into a smile at the familiar exchange. "Dinner ?" he suggested.

"Sure. But you won't be needing that," Alex told him as he summoned his jacket from the bedroom closet. "We'll be dining in a casual setting. Very casual." She rolled her eyes as Snape buttoned his jacket and made a last adjustment to his tie, ignoring her advice. "You have to have your armor, don't you," she murmured under her breath. As he watched she waved her wand from head to toe, transfiguring her own simple blouse and slacks into a sleeveless red dress and chunky high-heeled sandals. Alex frowned for a moment, muttering a second incantation, and added a small handbag to her ensemble. She slipped her wand into it and smiled up at him. "We may as well both be overdressed."

Her eyes widened as Snape scowled and leveled his own wand at her chest. He cast his spell while she was still fumbling with the clasp of her purse. The fabric of the dress faded to grey, then brightened again, becoming green. "That's better," he smirked, his black eyes glinting.

———————

Chapter title courtesy of Incubus


	4. Nice Work if You Can Get it

Snape cast a dubious eye over the foil-wrapped package that had just been placed in his hand. "I was under the impression that Muggles kept dogs as pets, not livestock."

"A hot dog is just what it's called, Severus," Alex said. "It's actually made of beef, I think. Or maybe pork..." Her voice trailed off.

"How very reassuring."

"Consider this my revenge for nine months of Yorkshire Pudding and Spotted Dick," she retorted, gleefully layering on ketchup, sauerkraut, and relish.

Snape cautiously topped his hot dog with mustard, darting surreptitious glances at her the whole time. He could detect a certain tension in the set of her shoulders, nothing more. Surely she must be under more than a little strain, considering her father's terminal illness. Of course, she was the sort of woman who would hide any sign of anxiety or fatigue with cosmetic charms. Alex led him deeper into Central Park, to a bench beside a duck pond where the white bulk of the Plaza Hotel could be seen above the trees. A few other people lounged on benches or strolled nearby, but for the moment, there was no one within thirty feet of them.

"How have things been going, Severus ?" Alex asked worriedly, her voice pitched so low that even the pigeons wouldn't have been able to overhear. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of his left arm, an unmistakable hint as to the specific thing she was referring to.

"This is neither the time nor the place, Alex."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "That's really paranoid, even for you. And the way you reacted back in your hotel room, when I came through the floo. You were prepared to do battle. What the hell is going on ?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. Remus Lupin seemed to think you were in some sort of danger." Snape watched her closely, waiting for her reaction.

"Remus ? What... why ?" Alex was clearly baffled.

"After his visit with you, he sent an urgent message to Hogwarts," Snape told her coolly. "Considering his impoverished financial status, I assumed he must have had a genuine reason to be concerned. Transatlantic owls are prohibitively expensive."

"What visit ? Severus, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Snape locked eyes with her. She was sincere. He scowled. "Lupin claimed to have visited you at your father's estate three weeks ago," he said softly. _Why would Lupin lie ? An attempt to humiliate me, make me look foolish in front of Alex ? _He immediately rejected the notion. _No, not at the cost of a transatlantic owl... Some scheme to lure me away from Hogwarts, perhaps ? But again, why ? _Alex had folded the square of aluminum foil that had held her hot dog and was absent-mindedly wiping her fingers with a paper napkin. She stared straight ahead, her mind obviously racing as fast as his own, seeking an explanation. _The logical conclusion is that Lupin was telling the truth. _"A memory charm, then," Snape suggested. "Who might have _obliviated_ you ?"

"In my family ? Any number of people." Alex laughed without humor. "My father would have been strong enough to do it, three weeks ago... But I'd be more inclined to blame my cousin Lucretia. But why, that's what I don't get. What did Remus say happened ?"

"He was cryptic. Something about an enchanted piano. He said you behaved strangely."

Snape could see the tension drain out of her. "Poor Remus," Alex shook her head ruefully. "I suppose he tried to firecall me before he visited ?"

Snape shook his head. "I honestly don't know."

"He must have... and reached Lucretia instead of me. She visits frequently, you know. Expressing her love and concern for her dear uncle." Alex's voice dripped sarcasm. "Making sure she'll get her share of the inheritance when Daddy dies. Messing with Remus' mind is exactly the sort of thing she'd just love to do. Bitch. I'm going to kill her when I see her again." Snape reflected that she didn't exactly sound as though she were joking. "Poor Remus," Alex repeated. "I'll have to send him an owl and let him know that I'm all right." She suddenly laughed and reached up to touch Snape's face. "And poor you, thinking I was in trouble and coming to rescue me. My dark knight."

"I was planning to attend the Thaumaturgy conference anyway," he told her brusquely. "It was no additional bother to check in on you."

She grinned. "Uh-huh. Come on, if you're only going to be here for a couple of days, I want to show you the sights."

——————

At Alex's insistence, they took the Staten Island ferry so Snape could marvel at the New York skyline. He had to admit, the Muggle architecture was impressive, if it really were accomplished entirely without magic as Alex claimed. The harsh lights of the city bled into the night sky, dimming all but the brightest stars. The Muggles had replaced them with their own electric constellations, reflected in the dark, shifting waters of the harbor. As they stood on deck admiring the view, Alex asked again about Snape's status as a spy. "I charmed your emerald," she explained, pulling the pendant he'd given her from the neckline of her dress. It flashed grass-green, refracting the twinkling skyline. The little bauble was magically keyed to Snape's life force, darkening if he was in danger. The enchanted gems had been a fad the year before—he'd purchased one for Alex on a whim. "It gets cold now, as well as dark, if your life is at risk," Alex continued. "Well, I couldn't sit worrying and watching it all the time," she added defensively. "The dream-bond doesn't stretch between continents. And you don't let on a damn thing in your emails," she accused.

"Emails can be intercepted as easily as owls, Alex." _She's been wearing that silly gem night and day._ He suppressed the confusion he felt at the emotion that snippet of information engendered. Snape looked sidelong at her as they leaned against the rail. "So, how often have I been in mortal peril in the past two months ?" he smirked.

"It isn't funny," Alex protested. "When it went dark I was afraid You-Know-Who was torturing you, or worse. How did he react when he found out Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, and the Lestrange brothers had been captured ?"

Snape took several moments to peruse the deck behind them, alert for inquisitive ears or prying eyes. Alex sighed impatiently, watching him. "Bella was notoriously unstable even before her long internment in Azkaban," he told her, finally relenting. "The Dark Lord accepted her death as a casualty of war. It was plausible to assume she would eventually be caught. Lucius Malfoy never revealed our involvement," he added. "Not that it would matter significantly if he did. Bella made her hatred of Lucius plain. As one of his staunchest supporters within the Dark Lord's ranks, she would naturally have extended that animosity to me."

"So Malfoy and You-Know-Who never seriously believed it when Bellatrix accused you of being a traitor. But Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange are still alive. Gods, Severus ! If their version of events gets out—"

"The brothers Lestrange are in no position to talk to anyone. They are in solitary confinement in Azkaban." Alex snorted. "Security is tight, despite the defection of the dementors," Snape assured her. "The mass escape was a huge embarrassment to the ministry. Fudge cannot afford to allow a mistake like that to happen again, not if he wants to keep his position. Which he desperately does. "

"But what if they—"

Snape brushed a finger across her lips, silencing her questions. _For the moment_, he thought sardonically. Alex shivered at the brief caress, and he felt an answering frisson run down his own spine. She clasped hands with him, leading him to a bench. Her fingers stroked across his palms as they released him. They sat quietly for several minutes, not quite touching. Her leg was pressed ever so slightly against his, whether by accident or design, Snape couldn't tell. Heat radiated from that one point of contact. He was intensely aware of the scent of her hair, as though flowers were twined through it. As if she were reading his mind, Alex smiled up at him and pulled her braid over one shoulder, exposing her neck. _Not exactly subtle, are we ?_ He shifted away from her minutely, then leaned back and accepted her tacit invitation, brushing long fingers across the nape of her neck, delighting in her indrawn hiss of breath. He trailed one finger lower, flicking the toggle of the zipper that ran down the back of her dress. "Intriguing little Muggle device," he commented silkily. "How exactly does it work ?" _Now _that _was subtle. _

Alex grinned. "When we get back to your hotel room, I'll show you." She rose gracefully to her feet.

Snape followed her example. "I take it we aren't waiting for the ferry to dock, then ?"

"Uh-uh. Race you." She disappeared with a pop.

——————

Snape arrived in the darkened hotel room a fraction of a second after Alex did. "I win," she teased, grabbing his Muggle-style necktie and pulling his head down to hers for a kiss. His fingers found the zipper pull and tugged it slowly down, the two sides parting with a faint purr. He pushed the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, pinning them to her sides. "Hey," she protested softly, trying to wriggle free. Snape just chuckled and kissed her again, reveling in the feel of her soft body as she yielded and melted against him with a sigh.

Her pale skin seemed lit with a pearly glow of its own as he finally released her, soft curves of breasts and shoulders illuminated dimly in the city lights shining through the tall windows. Another tug, and the dress came free of her hips, slithering to the floor. She swayed, kicking the little pile of green fabric aside. "You are beautiful," Snape breathed, scooping her into his arms. _And I did miss you. _

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Ira Gershwin 


	5. Baby Grand

Snape surfaced slowly from the depths of slumber, curled on his side in the bed, the warm body of his lover pressed against his back, one arm around him protectively. He felt a moment of panic upon waking as his consciousness sluggishly transferred itself back into his own body. For a second he was flailing, fumbling beneath the pillow for his wand. _No, her wand. Her body. _It was Alex who lay curled up beside him, wrapped in his possessive embrace, not the other way around. He'd forgotten how disconcerting that aspect of the dream-bond could be. Scowling with annoyance, Snape forced himself to remain still until the feeling of disorientation had passed. Then he rolled out of bed, snatching up his own wand from the bedside table, and stalked to the bathroom. He didn't bother to cast an imperturbable charm on the door before turning on the shower; Alex was already stirring. Snape shook his head, disgusted at his momentary loss of control. No doubt her sleep had been disrupted by his body's panicked reaction as he woke. _Oh well. Perhaps she'll join me, _he thought as he stepped under the spray of steaming hot water. That happy possibility did much to dispel his disgruntled mood.

———————

Later, Snape sipped a cup of coffee and watched as Alex sat at the low dresser and did her hair and make-up. With precise motions of her wand, she erased faint dark circles beneath her eyes, added color to her lids, lengthened and curled her lashes. Alex's eyes met Snape's in the mirror and she raised her eyebrows inquiringly. He'd been staring, Snape realized belatedly, and she'd caught him. "Will you join me for dinner tonight ?" he asked quickly. "I thought we might try something different. Daring, even. I propose dining indoors, seated on chairs." He drew in a breath and his eyes widened, as though he'd just been struck by inspiration. "Perhaps we could even make use of silverware !"

Alex giggled. "I guess I deserved that." Looking back at the mirror, she waved her wand and murmured an incantation. Her hair whipped about her face, braiding itself into an elaborate coiffure.

It was a style, Snape noted, that she wore only rarely. _On occasions when she feels the need to impress._ His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I can't, Severus," Alex said apologetically. "Hephaestus is holding a press conference this morning. I have to be there to show my support—now that Daddy's illness is public knowledge, the investors have got to see a united front. And then this afternoon, the board of Corwin Pharmaceuticals is meeting. That's the mundane arm of Corwin Enterprises," she explained. "And after that, I have got to see my lawyer, and I guarantee that meeting will drag on well past dinner time." She stood and murmured a spell, conjuring up a Muggle-style suit complete with knee-length skirt, stockings, and high-heeled pumps.

Snape scowled. He knew very little about womens' fashions, but he could recognize custom tailoring when he saw it. _That outfit would have easily cost Alex a month's salary when she worked at Hogwarts. Press conferences ? Corporate meetings ? _Was this the same woman who'd served as his teaching assistant, overseeing detentions and Remedial Potions ? "Your lawyer," he said, grasping at the least incredible element in her recitation. "Am I to understand, then, that your inclusion in your father's will is still uncertain ?"

"Oh, we haven't even gotten to the will yet," Alex said bitterly. "We do have to wait for Daddy to actually die, you know." She glanced at the clock. "There isn't time for me to explain the whole legal snarl right now, but basically, when Daddy's illness left him incapacitated, I became his guardian. That left me in charge of, well, pretty much everything. Decisions about his medical care, the business... Thank Merlin for Heph. I'd be totally lost without him." Alex favored Snape with a wry smile. "It doesn't matter to Lucretia that her husband is essentially running Corwin Enterprises. It pisses her off to no end that it's my signature on the documents. So, she's filed suit challenging my legal guardianship. She's claiming that Daddy only welcomed me back into the family fold under coercion. The _Imperious_ curse, to be exact. I'm probably going to end up testifying in wizard's court, under veritaserum." Alex shrugged. "That's what I'm meeting with the lawyer about today."

Snape was at a loss for words. He'd managed to avoid facing the reality of Alex's status as heir of a wealthy family until now, he realized. _Merlin's bloody balls. Dinner at the Leaky Cauldron used to be a big night out for her. Once she claims her inheritance, she could buy_ _the place._ He collected himself and addressed her coolly. "We'd best be going, then. It wouldn't do for you to be late for your... press conference."

"Severus. I'm still the same person I was when we first met." Alex stepped close, pulling him into her embrace, looking up at him intently. "Look, email me after the Thaumaturgy convention. I do want to see you again before you go back to Hogwarts, okay ?"

"Very well." Snape watched impassively as she stepped across the hearth and disappeared.

———————

Two days later, Snape was back in his hotel suite, sprawled in one of the comfortable armchairs in the little sitting room. The laptop computer sat open on the table nearby, displaying Alex's latest email. She'd invited him to dinner at her father's home. Snape's eyes were closed. He breathed slowly and deeply,

emptying his mind of the jumble information he'd acquired at the Thaumaturgy conference. He knew that Andrew Corwin spent most of his time nowadays in a drugged stupor, the effect of massive doses of Muggle painkillers. It didn't matter. Caution, ingrained over long years, refused to allow Snape to take the notion of entering a Dark wizard's home lightly .

Hephaestus Locke was another reason Snape wanted to be prepared. Locke was the elder Corwin's protégé, married to his niece, Alex's despised cousin Lucretia. He wished that he knew more about the man. _He has Alex's trust, at any rate,_ Snape thought, disapproving. Standing abruptly, he closed the laptop, stuffing it into the concealed pocket of his robes. Snape gave the room a final glance as he stepped to the hearth. He wouldn't check out of the hotel until his visit to the States was finished. Alex expected him to spend the weekend at her father's estate, but Snape always liked to have a backup plan. Several backup plans, if the truth be told. "Corwin Manor," he enunciated clearly, tossing floo powder onto the grate.

Seconds later he was stepping out of a different fireplace entirely. Alex was waiting, seated on a sofa reading a book. One of her romance novels, he noted before she banished it and took his hand. She was dressed casually, her hair hanging down her back in a single braid. "I'm glad you decided to come, Severus." She led him down a carpeted hallway and into a cozy dining room where a small oval table was already arranged for three diners. The intimate setting caught Snape by surprise. Recalling the massive dining room at the Malfoy estate, he'd imagined himself sitting at the far end of a long table, separated from Alex by yards of linen tablecloth and a dozen empty chairs. "The room expands to accommodate any number of guests," Alex explained as he pulled out a chair for her. "Heph should be joining us any minute now." As though on cue, a loud pop of displaced air sounded and a sandy-haired wizard of medium height and build appeared just as Snape was taking his seat. "Severus Snape, meet Hephaestus Locke."

Snape stood back up and inclined his head, greeting Locke with the most minimal bow courtesy would allow. Locke nodded back casually. "Mr. Snape. You're the schoolteacher, aren't you ?" He smiled. "Alex has told me so much about you."

_Fop,_ thought Snape, disliking the wizard on sight. But no, there was really nothing foppish about either Locke's dark brown, tailored robes or his close-cropped hair. He tried another insult on for size. _Effeminate. _Again, the epithet didn't fit. _Though his voice is irritatingly high-pitched, _Snape decided with satisfaction. Alex had rung a small bell, and now a pair of servant bustled into the room, one pouring wine while the other served the food. Expecting house elves, Snape found himself surprised yet again by the appearance of human staff. Snape gave a mental shrug and resolved to ask Alex about it later.

To his great annoyance, she apparently felt he needed to be enlightened immediately. In front of Locke. "We haven't had house elves since my grandfather's time," she told him brightly. "House elves don't cope very well with mundanes, as we call them. And we have a lot of dealings with non-magical folk."

"Absolutely," Locke chimed in. "Corwin Enterprises does more than seventy percent of its business with the mundane world."

"Fascinating," Snape said dryly. His eyes were drawn to a portrait on the far wall. It stood in odd contrast to the tastefully subdued paintings Snape had seen displayed elsewhere in the mansion. This one portrayed a swarthy, stubble-faced man in Muggle military fatigues. _The dictator of a small Latin American nation,_ Snape thought, _or possibly some country in the Middle East. _He couldn't begin to fathom why the portrait would be on display in Andrew Corwin's dining room.

Following Snape's gaze, Locke grimaced, then turned to Alex. "Lucretia wants to come up for the weekend," he began.

"No !" Alex cut him off. "Not after what she did the last time she was here."

"You two really need to drop these old grudges," Locke said, with the air of one who'd repeated the same line many times before. "You aren't children any more."

"Tell that to Lucretia. She's the one who played a cruel, childish prank on one of my friends." Alex's voice held a note of petulance.

"I'll tell her to apologize to you."

"I'll hex her into the middle of next week !"

Snape stifled a snort of laughter. He'd heard that threat before, and doubted very much that Alex was bluffing.

"She is my _wife_, Alexandria ! Do you think this situation isn't difficult for all of us ?" Alex seemed about to make a retort, but her expression softened at Locke's next words. "It's hard on the children. They miss their father."

"I know. And you miss the little rugrats too." She sighed. "Fine. Lucretia can stay for the weekend. Just keep her out of my way."

It occurred to Snape that the next two days could be very interesting indeed.

———————

Later, Alex led him into a large parlor. Like the other public rooms in the mansion, it was lit with electric lights. The room was dominated by a grand piano. "Ah, the infamous instrument," Snape quipped.

"Daddy always loved music. Chopin, Beethoven, Liszt—all the Romantic composers. I started taking piano lessons when I was about six," Alex told him, taking a seat on the padded bench. She grinned up at him. "Daddy must have fired five or six piano teachers before he finally accepted the sad truth. I don't have a single atom of musical talent. Okay, here's a little demonstration," she said, poising her fingers over the keyboard. "Chopin piano sonata number two. Um, how about the scherzo movement." In an instant, her fingers began to fly over the keys, producing fast-paced, lilting music. Alex not only sounded like a virtuoso, she looked like one. The illusion was spoiled when she slouched back on the bench, abruptly halting the recital. "Pretty slick, huh ? The enchantment cost more than the piano itself. Daddy didn't care if it was an illusion; he loved it when I played." She chuckled ruefully. "As long as it wasn't really me." She straightened up and regarded the piano keys quizzically. "I spent months memorizing Für Elise, before we gave up on the lessons... I'll bet I can still play it..." Haltingly, she played a few measures on her own, hitting a number of wrong notes in the attempt.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That isn't music, Alex, that's torture."

Grinning, she relinquished the piano bench. "All right then, you try it. Come on," she urged when Snape hesitated. "It's harmless. Kind of relaxing, believe it or not." He sat down reluctantly, goaded by the implication that he was somehow intimidated by the magical instrument. "Beethoven... Sonata Pathétique," Alex suggested.

Snape placed his fingers on the keys and suddenly they were moving, seemingly of their own volition. Not just his hands, but his arms, his foot on the brass pedals beneath, even his back and shoulders were involved, and without his conscious control. It was more than a little disconcerting. He lifted his fingers from the keys, stopping the music for a moment just to prove to himself that he could regain control of his own body. Satisfied, he allowed the enchantment to take over again. The music poured forth, hauntingly beautiful. It _was_ relaxing, Snape conceded. After a few minutes, though, he let his hands drop into his lap. The piano was harmless. He hid a frown from Alex. Something about Remus Lupin's description of his own encounter with the instrument continued to nag at the back of Snape's mind. As his eyes met Alex's, though, he pushed the concern aside.

Alex led him up the stairs and down another long hallway to his room. "I want to check in on Daddy," she said, "and I'm sure you'd like the chance to freshen up." She took his hands, smiling at him flirtatiously. "You can floo to my room later... if you'd like."

"Perhaps." Snape couldn't help but grin back at her. "Does the floo respond to Alex, or is it Alexandria ?"

"In this house ?" She snorted. "I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count."

———————

Chapter title courtesy of Billy Joel


	6. Even the Losers

Snape waited until Alex's footsteps had faded away before he slipped out of the guest room and back down the hallway. He had no idea what he hoped to find, but his instincts told him to take advantage of the chance to explore the mansion on his own. He made his way back to the main floor and soon found a staircase leading down below ground. The unfamiliar corridors posed no obstacle. After all, Snape had spent the better part of his life navigating the whimsical floorplan of Hogwarts with its moving staircases and hidden doors.

Down in the basement, out of public view, the hallways were dimly lit with torches. Snape drew his wand, carefully checking for magical wards before opening any of the doors. He spent a quarter of an hour exploring a potions laboratory outfitted with stainless steel work tables. Walls and flooring of white tile gave the room a clinical atmosphere. Spacious shelves held all sizes of cauldrons in copper, brass, pewter or silver. Snape's eyes were drawn to a small cauldron with a cold white sheen. Some delicate potions reacted poorly with baser metals, even silver, and had to be brewed in very small batches in vessels made of precious metal. He picked the little cauldron up and turned it in his hands. _Solid platinum. Almost a pound of it. _Snape's lips curled in a practiced sneer. _My, my. And to think, during my entire career, I've had to make do with mere gold. It's a wonder I can brew anything at all. _He set it back in its place on the shelf, his scowl deepening as the fingerprints he'd left on the vessel were magically and instantly buffed away.

There was an array of other equipment—sparkling glass alembics, retorts, beakers, and fanciful curlicues of tubing. Big brass dippers, tiny pipettes, funnels, sieves, scales, tongs... A block of stainless steel knives that would easily look at home in a Muggle kitchen, displayed right next to crude-looking black-handled daggers. But the cabinets of ingredients were what really aroused Snape's curiosity... and envy. Floor-to-ceiling cabinets filled with every sort of potion ingredient imaginable, many of them illegal in Great Britain. _And in the States as well, I daresay, _Snape thought. He was a bit surprised to find himself with an urge to slip a number of the harder to find items into his pocket. He closed the last set of doors firmly and continued his reconnaissance.

A discreet doorway led into a small circular chamber. Incongruously, it held a telescope on a stand. Snape looked up and let out an involuntary hiss of breath. The dome of the ceiling was charmed to present a perfect, unobstructed, cloud-free view of the entire night sky. An image flashed across his mind's eye; himself, late at night, climbing the endless flights of steps to the top of the Hogwarts astronomy tower to chart the alignment of the planets, seeking the optimal time to brew certain complex potions. _Imagine the luxury of making one's calculations mere steps away from one's laboratory. _Sneer firmly in place, Snape left the lab and went on.

Yet another door opened to a library. Again, the atmosphere was clinical, the extensive collection of books and scrolls preserved dust-free behind glass-paneled doors. Unlike the other basement chambers he'd explored so far, this one was brightly lit by both torches and candles. Snape cast a disillusionment charm upon himself and advanced cautiously, strongly suspecting that the room was still occupied. _By Locke, no doubt. _The room was L-shaped, he saw as he padded silently across the floor. He peered around the corner, and sure enough, found Hephaestus Locke sitting at another table, studying a heavy tome.

The sandy-haired wizard was seated facing the back wall of the library, his face visible in profile. A deep frown drew his brows down. _Concentration or frustration ? _A moment later the question was answered as Locke slammed the book shut and reached for a notebook, flipping through it impatiently. Snape's eyes narrowed as he read the title on the spine of the leather-bound volume Locke had just closed. _The Tree of Life. _He was familiar with the book, had in fact studied those very same pages himself as a younger man. _Before the Dark Lord's example taught me the folly of chasing after immortality. What does Locke want with that tome ? A cure for his mentor, perhaps ?_

Something must have alerted the other wizard to Snape's presence in the room. He looked up sharply, light hazel eyes scanning the chamber. Snape eased back around the corner, but it was too late—although he hadn't made a sound, somehow Locke's suspicions had been aroused. There was the scrape of a chair being pushed back. Running would give him away for certain, so Snape held still, relying on the disillusionment charm to do its job. Locke came around the corner, wand held in front of him in a defensive posture. Snape's own wand was ready, a selection of spells running through his mind. "Reveal yourself," Locke commanded.

At those two words, Snape felt a trickle of warmth start at the top of his skull and spread rapidly over his body. His charm had ended as surely as if Locke had cast _Finite Incantatum_. Snape didn't waste a second. He dodged, casting his own spell even before he was completely visible. "_Stupefy !" _A red beam of light flared from the tip of his wand, lighting up Locke's features with a ruddy glow.

"_Leviosa !" _The bookcase Snape had ducked behind rose gracefully into the air, moving aside to give Locke a clear shot at him. Amazingly, the mage had dodged the stunning spell Snape had cast a point-blank range. "_Expelliarmus !" _They cast at the same moment. Snape felt his wand torn from his fingers. Locke cast again instantly—Snape's own disarming spell hadn't had the slightest effect on him. "_Petrificus totalus." _Locke's voice was casual. Snape's arms snapped to his sides and he stood frozen in humiliating defeat. "_Leviosa," _ Locke repeated. He felt his paralyzed body drift forward, around the corner. Unable to turn his head, Snape heard the soft thud of the bookcase settling back into place behind him.

Locke strode past and placed _The Tree of Life_ back in its place in one of the bookcases before turning to confront him. When he did, he wore a smile. Not a grin of triumph or a smirk of amusement, just a smile, pleasant and incongruously sincere. "Mr. Snape. You startled me. I'm not accustomed to guests dropping in while I'm studying. _Finite incantatum_."

Snape's frozen limbs could move again. His mind struggled to accept what had just happened even as he schooled his features into a rigid mask, hiding his shock and mortification. _That couldn't even be described as a duel. _Nonplussed, Snape fell back on arrogance. "My wand, if you please," he said softly, his tone icy.

"Of course." Locke returned it, straight-faced. "Looking for some reading material, were you ? By all means, browse as long as you like. Make yourself at home, Mr. Snape." With another bland smile, Locke exited the library.

——————

Severus Snape retraced his steps through the mansion, mind reeling and stomach churning. _That could not even be charitably described as a duel,_ he repeated to himself. Snape held no illusions about his ability as a duelist. He knew that he wasn't invincible, but he was competent. The encounter with Locke had shaken him badly. Even the defeats he'd suffered as a schoolboy at the hands of Potter and his little gang hadn't been as one-sided. _Not a single one of my spells affected him ! _

Snape felt a sharp pain in his lower jaw and realized he'd been grinding his teeth since leaving the library. He'd been striding blindly from one room to the next, not paying attention to where he was going. With an effort, he drew several deep breaths and calmed himself. He was standing in yet another luxurious room on the ground floor. Above the mantelpiece hung a family portrait, non-magical, the figures looking oddly inert to Snape's eye. A man, woman, and child, formally posed. There was no question who the man was; Andrew Corwin. Alex's father. He had the same dark brown hair and grey-green eyes, smiling indulgently down at his wife and daughter. Snape turned his attention to the child, Alex at about six or seven years old. Her expression was solemn, almost haughty, her long, wavy hair held back from her face with a large satin bow. _Lupin wrote that she wore a bow in her hair when she played the piano. _He snorted. _The piano is harmless. _Still, he couldn't put aside the notion that he was missing a piece of the puzzle. He glared up at the little girl as if it were her fault. _Little girl... Not a toddler. _Snape's eyes glittered as they darted between the portraits of Alex and her mother. _The only time she spoke of her mother, she claimed to have been too young to have any memories of her before she died. _Snape tore his eyes away from the painting and left the room. His spying had yielded more questions than answers.

——————

Back in the guest rooms that had been set aside for his use, Snape took a hasty shower and washed his hair. _Waste of time,_ he thought, as he'd thought many times during the past year. _It will just get dirty again. _The rebellious thoughts didn't stop him from dutifully applying shampoo. Alex valued personal hygiene almost as much as she valued honesty. _And of the two traits, clean hair is easier to supply. _A short time later, holding his wand at the ready, he took a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the cold hearth. Instantly, green flames sprang up. "Alexandria Corwin's room."

"I was beginning to think you were going to bail on me." Alex lounged on the bed, dressed in a faded t-shirt. Snape took note of her smooth bare legs with approval before his attention was diverted to more pressing matters. Intensely paranoid at the best of times, the wards on Alex's bedroom fireplace hadn't taken him by surprise. "Severus ? Are you planning on staying or going ?"

"Staying." _ I hope. _ Still standing in the fireplace, he examined the spells blocking his entry into the room. "You weren't aware that your floo was warded ?"

"Warded ? It can't be. My little cousin pops in and out all the time when she's visiting."

"And why not ? These wards were set up to prevent access by males. Any male other than your father, to be specific." _Old spells. Fading, but still potent._ There were similar gender-specific wards on the stairways leading to the dormitories at Hogwarts. He maintained the ones in Slytherin House himself. _But those wards are only designed to deny entry to young intruders, not to punish them. _In the past, Snape had lobbied Albus Dumbledore to allow him to add a punitive element. Now he cringed, instinctively protecting his groin. He could imagine all too vividly what form his punishment would take if he failed to dismantle the elder Corwin's wards.

"Um, Severus ? Maybe you should just go back to your own room ? I could join you there." Alex was peering worriedly at him from across the room.

_A nice, safe distance away, in case things go horribly wrong_. "Your confidence in me is heartwarming," he said out loud.

"Sorry," she replied insincerely. "Tell you what. Why don't you—"

"Be quiet and let me think." She wasn't the only one who was lacking confidence in his abilities, after the disastrous encounter with Locke. "_Finite incantatum," _ Snape said firmly, and stepped across the hearth with just a bit more aplomb than he actually felt.

Alex was in his arms in an instant, kissing him enthusiastically. "I'm glad you made it through with everything intact," she giggled. Snape lifted her and gently but firmly set her aside. "Now what ?" Alex asked impatiently as he aimed his wand at the fireplace, murmuring an incantation. A web of green light spread across the opening, then slowly faded to invisibility.

"Now I'm the only man who can enter your bedroom," he smirked, turning back. Silencing Alex's inevitable comment with a kiss, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Tom Petty


	7. Enter Sandman

Severus Snape contemplated the lacy canopy over his head and permitted himself a smile of satisfaction in the darkened bedroom. His breach of the wards protecting this haven of Alex's childhood had done much to restore his self-confidence. _A symbolic deflowering of the chamber,_ he thought, _if not of the woman herself. _Beside him in the narrow bed, the woman in question stirred sleepily. Snape pulled her closer and ran his fingers through her hair. "How old is Hephaestus Locke ?" he asked.

"Hmm ? He's forty-one."

"That isn't possible. Are you certain ?"

Alex sat up, watching him in the dim light of a single candle on the nightstand. "Yeah. I've known Heph all my life. He's twelve years older than me."

_Which makes him only four years older than I. _"Not possible," Snape repeated stubbornly. "He's far too powerful."

"Oh, shit. You dueled Heph ?" Alex gave an exaggerated sigh and fell back onto the bed. "In Merlin's name, why ? Never mind," she corrected herself hastily. "I don't want to know." After a moment she slipped her arms around him. "I know you're probably... upset about losing—"

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it," Snape retorted, responding to her unspoken thought. "Hephaestus Locke's abilities are far beyond anything one might expect from a wizard who's only been practicing magic for three decades," he insisted. "I don't know of any mage of my generation who could defeat him in single combat. Bella Lestrange couldn't have done it."

"Heph was always precocious. Anton discovered him when he was only eight—he'd been orphaned. According to Daddy, at that age Heph was already casting spells your fifth-years would have trouble with," she said fondly.

Curious, Snape followed the tangent Alex had just provided. "Anton ?" he prompted.

"My father's brother. Anton Corwin was a playboy. He married an actress—you'd call her a squib—spawned my cousin Lucretia, and died in a freak skiing accident in the Italian Alps when Lu and I were nine."

"You really should learn not to wear your heart on your sleeve like that, Alex." Snape suppressed a chuckle.

"We'll see if you're still laughing after you meet Lucretia."

——————

A clock somewhere in the mansion chimed one. Snape lay awake, still pondering the puzzle of Hephaestus Locke. _Precocious, was he ? So was I. As is Potter... _He made an effort to consider the 'boy who lived' objectively. _Potter has an exceptionally powerful Patronus Charm, mastered when he was only thirteen years of age. Precocious indeed. _But the idea of Harry Potter defeating Snape in a duel ? Laughable. _Of course, if he ever decided to apply himself..._

That was the second half of the equation. Raw talent could only take a wizard so far. _Diligent practice,_ Snape mused. _Long hours spent in study, to the exclusion of other pursuits. _His thoughts turned to his own life. In his early twenties, under Albus Dumbledore's tutelage, he'd surpassed his former peers one by one. _All but Bella... but of course, she was more driven than any of us._ The comparison to other witches was inevitable. Bella's sister Narcissa...Molly Prewett Weasley... the Muggle-born Lily Evans, as precocious as they came, and almost as driven as Bellatrix Lestrange. _Until she fell in love with James Potter and settled for a life of tranquil domesticity._ In the darkness, Snape's mouth twisted into a sneer. He reminded himself that he wasn't being entirely fair. Marriage and family had lessened the potential of many a wizard as well, Lucius Malfoy being notable as the exception that proved the rule. The loss of focus was simply more obvious with witches.

A silent, sardonic chuckle followed. _I seldom had to make the choice between study or a social life._ For most of his teaching career Snape had been, by a decade or more, the youngest professor at Hogwarts. Alone in the safety of his own mind, he was willing to admit that the isolation had been nearly unbearable, in those early years. _Albus threw me a lifeline with those occasional tutoring sessions. It was the only human contact I could permit myself. No doubt Alex experienced similar feelings of loneliness, last year... It would explain her initial attraction to me, the only one even close to her own age. _He abandoned that train of thought as unproductive.

_So Locke possesses both talent and drive. It still doesn't add up. Locke's level of power is far closer to that of an Albus Dumbledore than to a Lucius Malfoy. And Albus has been honing his skills for more than one hundred years ! _The mental image of his mentor brought another image to mind... the Dark Lord. Suddenly, everything fell into place. _He too was once a student. Young, precocious, driven. And after countless Dark transformations... Of course ! That's how Locke has amassed so much power. _Snape recalled the more reliable reports he'd heard tell of the spells that had transformed the Dark Lord and scowled. _Blood Rites. Ritual murders... the acquisition of the life force of others. _He remembered Locke hunched over _The Tree of Life_, scribbling notes. _His own age would be irrelevant, if he's been absorbing Andrew Corwin's magic. _

Alex murmured a soft protest. Snape eased the fierce embrace he hadn't even realized he'd been holding her in. He'd solved the puzzle, but it didn't make him feel any more at ease. In fact, the new knowledge only heightened his paranoia. The distant clock chimed two. Snape resigned himself to a sleepless night.

——————

"You've napped long enough. Wake up." There was an acrid, bitter taste in Snape's mouth. _A powerful stimulant potion,_ he realized. The soft whir and hum of machinery surrounded him. A hand slapped his face. "Wake up."

Snape opened his eyes. Hephaestus Locke was smiling down at him. The high metal rail of a hospital bed marked the limit of Snape's view of the room. "You've taken everything you're going to get, boy," he rasped.

Locke's smile didn't waver. "Not quite yet, old man. You still have one secret left."

"And I'll take it to my grave. You reneged on your promise." He paused, struggling for the strength to continue. _ Pain. Such terrible pain._ Snape bit back a groan. "I owe you nothing."

"I understand that bone cancer produces an agony even _Cruciatus _can't match. That might be affecting your memory." Locke turned and addressed someone Snape couldn't see. "Mr. Corwin is still in pain."

A lilting female voice replied. "He had the morphine jus' a while ago, sir. I can't give him anyt'in' more jus' now."

"He'll be dead within a month, you know. Addiction is the least of his worries at this point." Locke's voice deepened more than an octave, took on the irresistible ring of authority. "Give him the shot. Now."

A broad brown face loomed, framed in a halo of braids, dark eyes blank. _Imperius,_ thought Snape. He felt his arm lifted, then a swab of astringent cold followed by a sharp pinching sensation, quickly gone. The nurse retreated. His mind began to clear as the pain receded a pace or two. _Just enough space in which to breath... _It was all he needed. He turned his head to meet Locke's gaze, the younger man's features resolving into sharp focus.

"I gave you twenty years of remission, remember now ? I understand that you might feel bitter. Imagine, a pure-blood wizard, falling victim to cancer. Not once, but twice. What an embarrassingly mundane way to die." Locke's voice betrayed no hint of sarcasm. His smile remained sympathetic. "I tried, old man, I really tried. Surely you can see that it isn't my fault. I did more for you than all your Muggle oncology specialists put together. By the time you let me try the Rites, you were just too weak."

"My daughter," Snape spat. "You bastard. You convinced me to harm her, for nothing."

"The ritual worked quite well when your wife provided the sacrifice. I had no reason to believe it wouldn't produce even better results with your daughter," Locke said carelessly. "It isn't my fault," he repeated patiently, his pleasant mask still firmly in place. "I only suggested an option. You agreed to it far too quickly for me to feel any guilt about the outcome." Locke's hand loomed in front of Snape's face again, this time holding a fat green bottle. "Tell me what I want to know. What you promised me, all those years ago. In return, I can give you what you must be eager for by now... a quick, painless death."

Snape laughed harshly. "I have no desire to see hell even one minute before I have to, boy. You have nothing left to bargain with."

Locke sighed, the smile finally slipping away. "You leave me no choice but to take the information by force. I'm so sorry to have to do this to you, in your condition. _Legilimens_."

——————

Snape sat bolt upright in Alex's bed, forcing down the howl of terror that rose in his throat. _He was inside my mind ! Corwin—no, Locke. Was it Locke ? He... They..._

"Severus ! Severus, wake up !" Alex's voice broke through the fear and confusion. The dream retreated, leaving Snape shaken and embarrassed. He pulled away from her, rolled out of the too-narrow bed, and stalked to the bathroom. Predictably, she followed. "What was it ?"

"Nothing. Nothing ! Just a dream. A... nightmare," he admitted with great reluctance.

"A nightmare ?" she repeated skeptically. "That isn't like you. Was it a vision ?"

"Don't be stupid," he said brusquely. "You were in the same bed all along, were you not ? Asleep, completely at peace. Unharmed. How could it have been a vision ?"

"Well, whatever it was, you look like shit."

Snape snorted. _You would too, if the Dark Lord had been inside your head. _Even fully awake, the thought was enough to make him shudder. _My mental defenses, crumbling under the Dark Lord's assault._ The fear had haunted many of his waking hours, over the long years he'd spent as a spy. Snape supposed it was hardly surprising that it had finally found expression in his subconscious mind, in the form of a nightmare. He grimaced. His body was slick with sweat. "I'm going to take a shower."

Alex grinned up at him. "Want some company ?"

Snape regarded her clinically. He knew that within a few more minutes, the nightmare would fade beyond his ability to recall anything more than the haziest of details. _ But if she can hasten that process..._ "Absolutely."

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Metallica


	8. Santeria

"What's on the agenda ? Any sightseeing you want to do today ?"

Snape regarded Alex over the rim of his coffee cup. She'd awakened him far too early, after last night's unprecedented dream. "Eager to get out of the house, are we ?" She grimaced and nodded. "Well, I'd like to get a little shopping done."

"Severus Snape, shopping ?" Alex giggled.

"Indeed." His eyes darted to the open door of the dining room. She rolled her eyes but took the hint.

Once breakfast was over, they returned to her bedroom. "_Imperturbatus !_" Alex cast the spell against eavesdropping herself and turned to him impatiently. "So, tell me already. What are we shopping for ?"

"Potion ingredients. Rumor has it that one can purchase literally anything in New York City. The legal status of said items being immaterial." The basement potions lab held all the ingredients he could dream of, but Snape prided himself that he was no thief. _Nor am I a beggar._ In the pocket of his suit jacket lay an unpreposessing wad of crumpled green paper, the Muggle equivalent of a considerable sum of wizard's gold. He raised an eyebrow at her mockingly. "Would the little heiress be capable of assisting me in this matter ?"

"I'm surprised at you, Severus. Alexandria Corwin wouldn't have the first clue where to find contraband potions ingredients." She abandoned her attempt to look affronted. "But fortunately for you, Alex Rose has a pretty good idea," she grinned.

"And how is it that Alex Rose came to have an interest in illegal potions ? I thought she left home because of an aversion to that particular area of study." Alex tensed minutely. Snape watched her intently.

"How did we end up discussing me in the third person ?" she said lightly. "It's just always seemed logical to me that if you want to create an antidote, you should first know how to brew the poison. Just an example." She gave him a sly, sidelong glance. "The alternative would be like expecting someone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts without having a clue how to cast an Unforgivable." He snorted. "Just give me a minute and we can go." She turned to a mirror and began muttering the words to a spell, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Snape watched critically as her dark brown hair slowly lightened, shortened significantly, and became curly.

"What in Merlin's name are you trying to do ?"

"I can't risk anyone seeing me going into anyplace, er, questionable, Severus."

"That's hardly an adequate disguise. You look ridiculous. _Finite incantatum,_" Snape intoned, ignoring Alex's indignant protest as her hair went back to normal. "Your specialty is potions, not transfiguration," he reminded her. "Whenever possible, play to your strengths." Rummaging in his pocket, he produced a brown glass bottle and handed it to her.

She read the label, written in Snape's own crabbed hand. "Polyjuice." Alex broke the enchanted wax seal. Rancid brown steam wafted lazily from the bottle neck. "Ugh. It's still fresh."

"Of course it's fresh. What use would it be if it weren't ?" Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Alex conjured a glass tumbler. Snape held up a hand to forestall her, still searching in the pocket of his suit coat. Anticipating a trip into the city, he'd dressed in the despised Muggle outfit that morning. "Ah, here we are. Now who shall you become ?" He snapped open a narrow wooden pencil case. Numerous strands of hair rested on the velvet lining.

Alex peered into it curiously. "Ooh, I recognize those platinum blond ones ! Can I be Lucius Malfoy for an hour ?"

Snape held the case up out of her reach. "Amusing as it would undoubtedly be to watch you try to pull that off, I think someone a trifle more feminine would suit you better. _Accio !_" A strand of light brown hair coiled itself around Snape's wand. He tipped it into Alex's tumbler.

"Eew. That is so disgusting." She poured the thick, gloppy potion into the glass and eyed it dubiously as it changed from muddy brown to olive green.

"Bottoms up," Snape encouraged with a leer.

"Not so fast. I assume there's going to be a size difference ?" Alex waved her wand without waiting for a reply. Her clothing disappeared, replaced by a loose-fitting bathrobe. She took a deep breath and gulped the potion. "Oh gods, I hate this," she whimpered. The tumbler fell to the floor, followed shortly by Alex dropping to her knees, clutching at her stomach. Snape watched without emotion as her body contorted, expanded, and abruptly resolved into a heavy-set woman, perhaps forty years of age. Alex rose to her feet, sighing with relief. "Wow, look at me ! I'm almost as tall as you," she crowed. Snape looked away as the too-small robe gapped open. "Oh, wow. I've got _boobs ! _Big ones. Look, Severus !"

Snape folded his arms and turned his back. "I personally prefer quality to quantity. You only have an hour," he reminded her pointedly.

"Hang on, I've got to get dressed." Rustling sounds came from the direction of Alex's closet. "Ugh, that won't work... with this figure, I'd look like a sausage... Who is this woman, anyway ? I don't think the poor thing ever heard of a pedicure..."

"Just get on with it." He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Like you said, transfiguration isn't my strong suit...but none of my clothes fit." He heard the swish of her wand and the murmuring of spells. "There, that'll have to do."

"Finally." He turned to face a stranger dressed in a shapeless summer frock and low-heeled shoes. Her eyes, now blue-grey instead of grey-green, were nearly on a level with his. _Disconcerting_.

"I like the extra height," Alex said brightly in an alto voice that was not her own. With an effort, Snape refrained from making any comment.

——————

It didn't take long for Alex to direct him through the floo and into a bustling neighborhood in New York City. Snape stared with undisguised interest at the dizzying variety of Muggles who crowded the sidewalk, mentally categorizing them according to the posters he'd studied at the Long-Distance Apparation Terminal. More than a few of them were dressed in what might be mistaken for wizards' robes. Their faces came in every hue, from brown so dark it was nearly purple, to a pallor that surpassed his own. The throng babbled in English, Spanish, and half a dozen other languages Snape couldn't put a name to. "Alex, is everyone in the States an immigrant from someplace else ?" he asked, exasperated.

"Except for the Indians, yes." Three women in saris passed them and she grinned. "Native American Indians, that is. Here's the store we want."

Snape glanced up at the painted sign with its foreign-sounding name. _Lukumi Botanica. _A bell jangled as he ushered Alex through the door. The air smelled of incense and spices. Packets of plastic-wrapped herbs vied for space on shelves crowded with Muggle books, covered dishes, candles in tall glass jars, sacks of beads, cowrie shells... He wasn't the least bit impressed. Snape reminded himself that it was hardly likely that the items he sought would be displayed in plain sight. At the back of the store a niche in the wall housed an array of statuettes, each one gaudier than the last to Snape's eye. Votives flickered amid offerings of flowers, candy, and some clear liquid in a glass. Cautiously he lowered his nose to it and sniffed. _Alcohol._

"Severus ! Get away from that. Sheesh." His tall, frumpy companion rolled her eyes, her expression undeniably Alex's. "Come on." She led him over to the counter where a thin woman with a complexion as sallow as Snape's own watched with hooded brown eyes, her slender neck adorned with strings of beads in red and black, blue and white. "Hi," Alex addressed her nervously. "We're looking for some specific things you might have in stock..."

"Uh-huh." The woman waved her fingers at Alex, then at Snape, the obscure gesture immediately raising his hackles and causing him to grip his wand tightly. Alex laid a restraining hand on his wrist as the woman gestured a third time in the direction of the back wall next to the altar. A curtain-covered doorway appeared where there had been none before. Alex stepped through it and led him down the flight of stairs that waited behind the curtain. He drew his wand and pushed past her to precede her down the steps. "That mulatto squib—"

"Could you be just a little bit more offensive ?"

Snape blinked. "The shopkeeper," he tried again. "She did _something_..."

"A spell. Probably to detect ill intent." Alex looked down at him from her spot on the step above. "This isn't Great Britain, Severus; not every witch or wizard gets their training in seven years of boarding school."

Snape's eyes glittered, darting between her, the curtained doorway, and the steps leading down. He kept his voice pitched very low and pointed out the obvious. "She had no wand."

"I'm sure I mentioned this before. Things are different here."

"You'll have to explain it to me again sometime soon," he said dryly. "But for now, I estimate we have less than three-quarters of an hour before that potion wears off."

The room at the foot of the stairs made the potion supplies housed in Andrew Corwin's laboratory seem paltry by comparison. Snape was almost able to forget his paranoia about the wandless witch upstairs as he browsed and selected a number of ingredients that would be impossible to find back home, even in Knockturn Alley. _Almost_. The dark, mild-mannered man who presided over the secret apothecary kept him on his guard. _Undoubtedly a wizard of some sort as well,_ he thought, surreptitiously eyeing the man, looking for a wand. In the end, Snape handed over nearly half of his American Muggle money, considering it well spent.

They apparated back to Alex's bedroom with five minutes to spare, loaded down with Snape's purchases. He was faintly relieved when her extra flesh suddenly melted away as the polyjuice potion wore off. It was off-putting, seeing Alex's personality housed in a thirteen-stone body. _Not to mention the height._ He definitely preferred being able to loom over her when necessary.

Alex changed clothes with a nonchalant wave of her wand. "Darn," she commented, kicking off shoes that were now far too large, "I'm going to miss having boobs that can actually be seen with the naked eye." Snape's eyes glinted as she regained an inch or two of lost height by pulling on her customary high-heeled pumps.

"I assure you, I find your own breasts quite adequate."

"Adequate ?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Snape suppressed a smirk as he ran his eyes over her restored figure appraisingly. "Yes, adequate," he repeated, stepping closer.

She shook her head, reaching up to embrace him. "There's that famous Snape charm in action." He was just about to bend down to kiss her when a piercing wail echoed in the corridor just outside her door.

An imperious voice, female and very young, interrupted the howling. "Erich, stop that. I'm going to visit Alex and Nanny is going to put your down for your nap. And I don't want to hear any more argument about it."

Alex grinned. "You're about to meet my cousin Cordelia."

"Oh, no." Snape looked horrified. "I have a strict policy; no contact with children during the holidays." Before Alex could protest, he disapparated.

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Sublime


	9. Growing Older But Not Up

Snape took a bite of Dover sole, grateful that the main course was fork-tender; he needed his right hand free to hold his wand. He'd arrived in the dining room to find that the table had been set for four. His sense of relief that Locke's children would not be present at dinner had only intensified when it became clear that, as far as Alex and her cousin Lucretia were concerned, the meal was nothing more than a venue for surreptitious dueling. _Surreptitious? Hardly. Blatant is a better term, _he corrected himself as a muttered hex from Alex turned Lucretia's entree into a nest of cockroaches. Her opponent managed to banish them, but not before one scuttled off the plate and headed across the white linen tablecloth toward Snape. He s_tupefied_ the insect, leaving it lying on its back, legs waving feebly in the air. Alex gave him an apologetic smile as Lucretia irritably ordered one of the ever-present servants to clear away her plate.

"Is this your first trip to the United States, Mr. Snape?"

"Yes." Snape didn't feel any need to elaborate; Lucretia had barely finished her query before she'd turned her attention to her wineglass.

"Professor Snape just attended an international conference on Thaumaturgy," Alex supplied brightly.

"Fascinating," Lucretia drawled in a tone that made no secret of her true feelings on the subject.

Locke, however, seized the topic eagerly. "Thaumaturgy. Now that is a fascinating branch of magic. Corwin Pharmaceuticals has used mundane computers for years, of course, but magical computers are slowly catching on in our Potions Division. Last quarter, almost fourteen percent of our orders were placed via e-mail."

"That's wonderful," Alex enthused. "Would you believe, in Great Britain, most Thaumaturgical equipment is still considered illegal under the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts laws? It's frustrating, isn't it, Professor Snape?"

"Mm-hm." _Locke would have been just as grateful if Alex had announced that I'd been attending an international conference on necrophilia,_ Snape thought, hiding a smirk as the sandy-haired wizard kept the conversation going by sheer force of will. Months of maintaining a facade of rapt attention to the Dark Lord's speeches came to Snape's aid now as he kept up a polite show of interest in the chit-chat, waiting all the while for the next hex to be flung. He took advantage of the apparent lull in hostilities to take a sip of wine, noting with approval that Alex's glass contained nothing stronger than water. _She needs to keep a clear head... Ah, too late._ Alex had just failed to block her cousin's spell in time. Snape winced as painful-looking boils erupted all over her face.

At the other end of the table, Hephaestus Locke grimaced and made yet another futile stab at small talk. "High pressure system moving in," he said doggedly. "I understand that the weather is going to be even hotter tomorrow—"

Snape wondered why the other wizard didn't intervene. Locke could easily silence both witches and put an end to the duel. He barely suppressed a chuckle at Alex's next move. She hadn't bothered to cast the counter-curse to stop the boils. Instead, she'd gone on the attack "_Aurisaugeo!"_

_Perhaps Locke is afraid of appearing to take sides ,_ Snape mused as Lucretia's ears rapidly unfurled. Within moments, their proportions rivaled those of an African elephant's. _Either one of the cousins could possibly gain total control of the Corwin empire once Andrew Corwin finally shuffles off this mortal coil. _The two witches were muttering furiously, casting and blocking curses so fast with covert movements of their wands that both appeared to be in the throes of some kind of seizure. Neither seemed able to gain the upper hand. Alex's pustule-covered face resembled nothing so much as an over-ripe raspberry. Snape hastily shielded his place setting from Lucretia's right ear; her left ear had just knocked over Locke's wineglass.

"_Finite incantatum," _both women snarled in unison. "Really, Alexandria," her cousin snapped as her ears shrank back to normal. "Must you be so childish?"

Alex just smiled serenely as the boils mercifully faded away. "Thank you, Hector," she murmured as one of the household staff cleared her plate.

She'd worn a look of anticipation ever since Lucretia had entered the room. _She has something else planned, _Snape thought, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He took another swallow of wine, then scowled as he realized that he was on edge, waiting to face whatever new threat the warring cousins might pose, every muscle in his body tense. Irritated with himself, he tried to relax. _Dinners with my parents were hardly more of an ordeal than this. _Now the servants brought out dessert, an elaborate chocolate torte. _The detente ought to last until coffee is served,_ Snape decided. Nothing short of _Avada Kedavra _would distract Alex from chocolate. Across from him, Hephaestus Locke visibly relaxed as well. He'd obviously come to the same conclusion. Snape wasn't about to loosen his grip on his wand, though, not when he knew that Alex still had something up her sleeve.

He turned his attention to Lucretia Corwin Locke. She had arrived at the Corwin mansion with her two young children, a maid, a 'British' nanny and a Danish au pair in tow. Snape had noted that the blond au pair was hardly old enough to be out of school and that the nanny's English accent tended to lapse into American Midwest when there were no other adults around. Locke's son Erich appeared to be a typical toddler, not that Snape had any cause to know much about children under the age of eleven. _Thank all the gods for that small blessing. _The daughter, Cordelia, had spent most of the afternoon monopolizing Alex's time and attention in a way that might almost have made Snape jealous, if he had actually felt himself to be in any sort of competition with the six-year-old. Which of course, he did not.

Lucretia presented a new piece to the puzzle of Alex's family. _First cousins..._ The two women were nearly the same age, just months apart. They had the same coloring, the same bone structure. Lucretia's hair was much shorter, artfully streaked, aggressively chic. She was taller by several inches. _Reason enough for Alex to resent her,_ Snape supposed, hiding a grin. Her breasts were fuller as well, he noted clinically, no doubt the result of the two children she'd borne. The physical differences were negligible. In the incestuous world of pureblooded European wizardry, first cousins who could almost pass for twins would hardly be remarkable. But Lucretia's mother had been Muggle-born. Of course, it was possible that the Corwin bloodline was just very strong. Just as possible that the two were half-sisters. _But which Corwin brother was the cuckold, Anton or Andrew? _

The object of his covert scrutiny suddenly stiffened in her chair. Snape followed her gaze. She was looking daggers at the garish portrait of the Latin American dictator. "Change it back, Alexandria!" Locke sighed theatrically and cast Snape a look that clearly said, 'Here we go again.'

Alex wore the satisfied smile of a seeker who'd just grabbed the golden snitch from under her opponent's nose. "I'll take the curse off, Lu... as soon as you deactivate the permanent sticking charm."

"My mother's portrait has as much right to hang in this house as yours does," Lucretia hissed.

"Your mother was a no-talent whore. If I have to look at an ugly face during every meal, I'd rather look at General Noriega," Alex said. She brought her wand up in a defensive posture. Lucretia's face was twisted in fury. Snape's own wand had been aimed at Lucretia from the moment she'd gone stiff with rage. _"P_r_o—"_

"_Cru—"_

"_Petrificus to—"_

"Enough!" Locke thundered before any of them could complete their incantations. "_Expelliarmus!" _Snape felt his wand start to slip from his fingers and clutched it frantically. The two witches were instantly disarmed. Locke plucked their wands out of the air, a bland smile settling over his features like a mask. "That's enough. I don't think I need to remind either of you that the master of this house is very ill. He needs rest and quiet." Locke murmured a spell and the surface of the disputed painting melted and swirled, coalescing into a portrait of a seductive blond starlet.

Lucretia's smirk of triumph faded as her husband pocketed her wand. Alex rose and faced Locke, her features rigid. She held out her hand for the return of her own wand, the imperious gesture of a spoiled, sulky child. It wasn't at all attractive. Snape recognized the same arrogance that he'd pulled around himself like a cloak after his own defeat at Locke's hand, and decided he could sympathize. "I'm going to check in on my father," Alex announced as Locke graciously handed back her wand. She avoided looking directly at any of them as she stalked out with all the dignity she could muster.

_She actually looks taller,_ Snape thought, impressed. He rose to his feet, nodded to Locke and his wife, and followed Alex out of the room.

——————

Snape followed an old Slytherin adage—discretion is the better part of valor—and took off down the hallway in the opposite direction from Alex's rapidly retreating footsteps. He'd already decided to browse the basement-level library. After all, Locke had told him to make himself at home.

Much later, depositing a hefty stack of books on a side table in his room, Snape debated placing a transatlantic firecall to Filius Flitwick. It was already Saturday; his original plan had included returning to Hogwarts as soon as he'd ascertained that Alex was in no danger. He scowled. _Her close friend and confidant is a Dark wizard of immense power whom I suspect of draining her father's very life away. The father himself can be ruled out as an active threat only because he is currently comatose. And the cousin..._ Snape rolled his eyes. _She was on the verge of using an Unforgivable this evening... at the dinner table, no less. _But was Alex in any real danger? The faces of some of his Slytherins flashed through his mind—Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, young Miss Parkinson. Their own families were arguably even worse than hers, and they weren't even of age yet. _Alex is a grown witch. She can take care of herself. I shall apparate home tomorrow or the next day at the latest._

That meant that tonight was likely the last night he'd spend with Alex for some time. Snape decided to wash his hair.

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Jimmy Buffett


	10. Lucretia McEvil

Snape recited a spell to dry his hair as he strolled into the bedroom. He wasn't particularly surprised to see Alex posed seductively in the center of his bed, wearing a lacy confection that left little to the imagination. _That's certainly promising. _Her hair was done up in a sort of artlessly mussed style, one that he suspected took a certain amount of effort to achieve. Stray tendrils curled around her face. _Not very practical... will she apply a potion to grow them back out?_ He supposed he had better remark on the effort she'd gone to. He tossed his wand onto the nightstand and joined her on the bed, stroking her shoulders, leaning in to kiss the nape of her neck. "You look beautiful." She was beyond tense, so tightly wound it seemed she might shatter. Snape gave a mental sigh and changed tactics. He splayed his fingers across her shoulder blades, massaging the stiffness from her muscles. "Your father," he murmured, trying for a sympathetic tone. "Any change in his condition?"

"Not really. He actually seems to have gotten worse since last night."

_Perhaps he's finally decided to get on with it and die._ Unaware of his thoughts, she relaxed incrementally and leaned back against his chest. Pleased, Snape resumed his assault, trailing kisses up her neck and along her jaw. A subtle sense of wrongness intruded and he drew back, scowling.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"You've changed your perfume."

"It's Chanel." A diamond earring caught the light as she shifted to face him. "Don't you like it?"

"Hm," he grunted noncommittally. _Of course I don't like it. _Snape suppressed a snort. _Diamonds. French perfume. _He vastly preferred the woman who'd worn silver jewelry and inexpensive cologne. _But Alex Rose no longer exists, _Snape thought. _She's Alexandria Corwin now. And she will not be returning to Hogwarts._ The very idea was laughable. Pain blossomed behind his breastbone, a miniature _Cruciatus_, and he nearly pushed her away. Instead, he caught her hands in his, stilling her caresses. "You promised to tell me about American shopkeepers' penchant for wandless magic," he reminded her.

She pouted prettily. "Now?"

"Now."

"If you insist." She drew her wand from behind her head and conjured a bottle of wine and two stemmed glasses.

Snape glowered as her hair tumbled in waves around her shoulders. "I thought you weren't supposed to have alcohol, or am I mistaken?" He was not... he'd seen the prescription bottle in her bathroom.

"One drink won't kill me." She handed him a glass and drank deeply from her own.

Snape bit back a sharp retort. _No sense in wasting our last night together arguing. Try to enjoy the moment._ He set his wine aside, untouched. "Wandless magic," he prompted.

"You British pure-bloods, so sheltered in your ivory towers," she teased, lounging back against the pillows.

Snape dropped his head to her lace-covered bosom and suppressed a sigh of contentment as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Thus saith the heiress who can trace her ancestry back to the fifteenth century."

"Thirteenth," she corrected absently. "America is a melting pot, a grab bag of different cultures."

"I'd noticed that."

She ignored his interruption. "Not everyone came of their own free will, though. Thousands of Africans were brought here in chains."

"But surely not any wizarding folk."

"Why not? Our kind don't always win, you know. And besides, not all of the slave traders were mundanes."

Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. _Wizards, compelled to serve Muggle masters as slaves. _Of course it was possible, through sheer force of numbers. _And once stripped of his wand, a captured mage would have been helpless... _The very notion was enough to bring all the old, long-suppressed prejudices back to the surface in a rush. _I daresay the Dark Lord's message of Muggle extermination would enlist a fair number of converts here in the States, _he thought.

"When you're struggling to survive, distinctions like 'wizard' and 'Muggle' must seem awfully petty," Alex mused. "I don't just mean the slaves, either. The early colonists died in droves from starvation and disease. Lots of wizards and mundanes intermarried, a sort of magical miscegenation, if you will. Children with varying degrees of magical talent resulted from those unions. And you don't want to call them squibs," she added. "It's offensive. Any degree of magical ability is considered an asset, even if it's something as simple as conjuring up fire or minor illusions. You'd be surprised; more than half of Hollywood possesses magic to some degree."

"Hollywood?"

She let her breath out in a huff. "Home of the Muggle entertainment industry."

"Ah. Such as... your cousin Lucretia's mother?" he asked cautiously.

"Aunt Joan had a natural talent for Entrancing Enchantments. Men were drawn to her like moths to a flame."

_Including your father, perhaps?_ Snape decided to steer the discussion back to a less volatile subject. "I still don't understand how the enslaved wizards managed to pass on their skills, being deprived of access to wands as they obviously must have been."

"Focus is the key. You've got to have something to focus the magic, otherwise the uncontrolled forces pose as much danger to the caster as to the intended victim."

"Yes, yes, of course." The necessity of a wand was undisputed fact.

"Religion," she said with satisfaction. Snape couldn't help it—he snorted in disbelief. "No, really. Think about it. When people are oppressed, they turn to religion. For comfort. For strength. When magic is suppressed, it finds outlet in religious faith. They use the trappings of their faith, the icons; the fetishes; the incense; to focus the magic."

An image of Lukumi Botanica sprang to Snape's mind. The little shrine with its offerings of rum and candy, its gaudy, gilded statuettes. The proprietor with her many necklaces of colored beads. He supposed it was possible. "Don't the Muggle practitioners of these faiths object?"

"You're still stuck in that ivory tower, aren't you, Professor Snape?" Her voice took on a lecturing tone. "Complete separation from the mundane world is not the norm. In most cultures, witches and wizards serve as spiritual leaders. The tribal wise woman, the witchdoctor, the voodoo houngan..." She chuckled. "The druid."

"Druids! Nonsense. We overcame such superstition centuries ago," Snape sneered. "I admit that religion once played a role in the wizarding world. It may still, in primitive cultures. The United States, however, is not primitive." _Uncouth, barbaric, but definitely modern to a fault._ "That apothecary shop... even the basement was lit with electric lamps."

She shrugged, the gesture causing her breasts to jiggle enticingly. Snape allowed himself to be distracted. He nuzzled her cleavage, fingers struggling with the ribbon laces that held the garment together. _Silly thing. What was it called? A corset, a bustier?_ Whatever it was, it didn't look comfortable. Its sole advantage, as far as Snape could tell, was to make her seem better-endowed than she really was. _Silly witch,_ he thought fondly. _She ought to know by now that such feminine artifice is unnecessary. _The ribbons stubbornly resisted his efforts to untie them.

"Let me get that for you, darling." With a murmured spell, the laces parted and her breasts, full and round, tumbled free of their restraints.

Snape froze, his thoughts racing. _Alex might be insecure, but she would never resort to an augmentation charm... and since when has she ever called me 'darling'?_ In an instant, he'd knocked her wand from her hand and gripped a fistful of hair, dragging her along in his wake as he dove across the bed, reaching for his own wand. Snape flung the imposter down onto the mattress with a snarled incantation. Cords shot from his wand with a loud bang and tightly bound wrists to ankles.

Lucretia laughed. "Quick reflexes, Professor," she said mockingly. "How did you guess it was me?"

_I should have known immediately. __The perfume... her initial revulsion at my touch..._ It was obvious, in hindsight. He reached down and fondled a breast callously, twisting the nipple hard. He felt a twinge of satisfaction at Lucretia's indrawn hiss of pain. Snape restrained himself with an effort and withdrew his hand. He folded his arms across his chest. "Your vanity betrayed you, Madam Locke. Tell me, was this amateur attempt at seduction your own idea, or did your husband put you up to it?"

"Seduction? Don't flatter yourself. I was just curious to see if you and the little princess really were... romantically involved." Lucretia's gaze flicked over him, contemptuous. "Hard to imagine even Alexandria sinking so low. Although they do say looks aren't everything." She shuddered delicately. "In your case, I sincerely hope not."

"Be silent. _ Silencio,_" he added as an afterthought. Snape hurried to organize his thoughts. _Best if neither Locke nor Alex discovers that she was here._ A memory charm seemed the best option. Just as he was raising his wand to _obliviate_ Lucretia, the bedroom hearth suddenly sprang to life with a crackle of flames. "Damn." Snape whirled to face his latest visitor. "Calm down, Alex. I can explain."

———————

Chapter title courtesy of David Clayton-Thomas

Author's note: Real-life religions mentioned in this story are depicted in a fictional way—no offense to anyone's religious beliefs are intended.


	11. Bewitched

"Calm down, Alex. I can explain." She'd stepped across the hearth wearing a sheer black gown accessorized with a seductive smile. At the sight of her doppleganger tied up on the bed, the smile had been instantly replaced by anger, her lips thinning to a colorless line. Snape risked a quick glance at Lucretia and found her displaying a smug grin designed to provoke Alex to even greater fury. _Either the fool woman possesses a recklessness to rival that of any Gryffindor, or she is utterly mad! Most likely the latter._ He turned his attention back to Alex. Her face was white with rage, her wand trained at his groin. The bath towel wrapped around his waist suddenly seemed wholly inadequate. Snape didn't let his discomfort show. "All appearances to the contrary, this isn't some fantasy bondage scenario," he purred. "I simply restrained her once I realized that she was an impostor."

"And just _when_ did you catch on?"

Snape cursed silently. He had only two options, neither of them appealing. _I knew immediately, of course—but then, how to explain Lucretia's unlaced bodice?_ Reluctantly, he opted to tell the truth. _Or close enough to the truth._ "After a few minutes of small talk." Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. Snape kept his expression blank, innocent. He wasn't about to admit to any amorous involvement, despite the incriminating evidence. He'd brazened his way out of far worse. "She spoke of her mother... by name," he elaborated. "I knew it was unlikely that you would do so." _You've never referred to the woman as anything other than 'whore.' _

He heard the epithet repeated aloud as Alex aimed her wand at Lucretia. "_Finite incantatum!" _As the transfiguration spell dissipated, the facial features changed slightly and the legs lengthened noticeably. Most dramatically, the long hair shortened, seemingly sucked back into the scalp. Alex lunged forward, slapping Lucretia hard. "Bitch. _Finite incantatum!" _ She delivered a backhanded slap to the other cheek. "Stop it!" Alex repeated the incantation a third time, her voice becoming increasingly desperate. 

Snape realized what was going on and intervened, catching Alex's wrist as Lucretia winced involuntarily. Livid red handprints had bloomed on both cheeks. "The disguise has been completely dispelled," he told her quietly.

Alex blinked, then pulled away. Stepping back and folding his arms across his chest, Snape let her go. She addressed Lucretia. "Can't you ever get laid with your own body, Lu?" She turned back to Snape. "You put a silencing spell on her?" He nodded. "This isn't the first time she's pulled this stunt," Alex said. "She figured out the spell back when we were in college. I've mentioned St. Vixen's—very exclusive, very expensive..." Snape nodded again, watching her pace, working out her anger and aggression. Lucretia watched too, her eyes shifting back and forth. "We both majored in Potions... pledged rival sororities. I tease you about British wizardry being behind the times, Severus, but St. Vixen's was something else. A whole different world. Talk about weird pureblood traditions! Some of my classmates were actually betrothed, marriages arranged while they were still toddlers!" Her voice held amazement, an inability to comprehend a custom that the Head of Slytherin House had never even thought to question. "We had a dress code, curfew, chaperones... While the rest of the country was reveling in the sexual revolution, St. Vixen's girls were cloistered like nuns." Alex paused, brow furrowed momentarily, then waved her wand in an arc towards Lucretia's midsection. "_Doleo ventris!_ Of course, there were always a few who managed to sneak off campus," she went on in a conversational tone, keeping her eyes and wand pointed at the woman on the bed. Lucretia began to squirm uncomfortably. "Imagine my surprise when rumors started to circulate that I was one of the party girls."

Lucretia's bare stomach was starting to bloat as Alex's Cramping Curse took effect. Her shoulders strained against the magical cords pulling her arms tight behind her as she curled in on herself, trying to ease the pain. Her facial expression remained defiant, bright eyes staring daggers at them both. Snape watched impassively. "How much damage did she do to your reputation?" he asked, keeping his tone casual to match Alex's.

"Not too much, not where it counted. I was already known as a bookworm, keeping up a four-point-oh average. In my spare time I tutored a couple of my sorority sisters who were having trouble in Potions. Stupid slut!" Alex's voice rose. "I was willing to keep out of her way at college, but no. She just had to stir—up—_trouble_!" She emphasized each word with a sharp jab of her wand. Lucretia began to writhe in earnest, her belly now grossly distended.

A pendant fell out of Lucretia's cleavage as she squirmed, briefly catching the light. _A gem of some sort, _Snape thought absently. He took several steps back as the woman's body reacted, noisily expelling some of the excess gas Alex had inflicted on her. _The spell is unsophisticated, but very effective,_ he noted. _Humiliating as well as painful._ He surreptitiously flicked his wand, muttering a charm to clear the air. "So. What happened?" he prompted.

"A group of us slipped off campus one Friday night and apparated over to Stovard. An all-wizard's college," she explained. Alex let out a snort of laughter. "I had quite the reputation there, let me tell you. Merlin's beard, was I popular! All the frat boys knew my name. Seems darling Lucretia had slept with half the student body, while wearing my face." Alex's own face twisted with disgust. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Nymphomaniac. Cow."

Alex continued the diatribe, punctuating the string of mingled American and British profanity with her wand, wringing every last ounce of torment from the curse. Snape found himself marveling at the sheer scope of the vocabulary of foul words at Alex's disposal. He missed the incantation she threw into the mix, only realizing she'd cast a fresh hex when Lucretia reacted. The spell appeared to be gynecological in nature. After a moment's observation, Snape decided he really didn't care to know more and turned away, slightly disturbed at the look of gloating pleasure on Alex's face. _She can be quite the little sadist when she wants to be... _ He stifled a sardonic chuckle. _For some reason, I seem to attract that type._

The amusement faded as he took note of the small clock on the bedside table. Lucretia had been in his chambers for over half an hour. It wouldn't bode well for Locke to find his wife half-naked in Snape's bed, being tortured. _Perhaps Alex will wind down soon... _ Her face was flushed, eyes glazed, her breath coming in short gasps. _Or perhaps not. _Lucretia was thrashing wildly on the mattress, all attempts at stoicism forgotten. Her body was drenched in sweat, her mouth stretched wide. Snape was grateful that the silencing spell was holding, otherwise the witch's screams would have rattled windows throughout the mansion. "Alex, that's enough," he commanded. When she ignored him, he stepped in front of her, breaking her eye contact with Lucretia. "I doubt Locke will be forgiving if you do permanent harm to his wife."

Again, she blinked, seeming to come back to herself after a long moment. Her laugh was strained. "I could cheerfully kill her." She drew a deep breath. "I guess I should _obliviate_ her, huh?"

"Perhaps I should do it," he suggested smoothly.

Alex scowled and raised her wand. With a few words she summoned an oversized, frumpy robe to cover Lucretia's revealing get-up. "Okay. Go ahead."

Snape let out a silent breath, relieved that she was letting him take over without an argument. Memory charms could be tricky. In the state she was in, she could easily do irreparable damage. He admitted—to himself—that he feared the prospect of Hephaestus Locke discovering what had happened. He muttered a quick spell of his own and a second later, fully dressed in black robes, he approached the bed. Lucretia's eyes were clenched shut as she sucked in deep gulps of air. The _Silencio_ had worn off, but the witch was too exhausted by her ordeal to make much noise. Her hair was lank, plastered to her head. A glint of gold at her nape caught Snape's eye. "_Accio_ pendant." It flew off her neck and into his hand, a dark, flawed crystal emanating an icy cold that startled momentarily as the gem hit his palm. He held it out to Alex. "Recognize this?"

"I've never seen it before. But it looks like a life gem...like the emerald you gave me last Christmas."

———————

Chapter title courtesy of Frank Sinatra


	12. On the Road to Findout

Fueled by a desire to get Lucretia out of his bedroom as quickly as possible, Snape cast _confundo, finite incantatum_, and _scourgify_ in quick succession.

Freed from the magical bonds, she sat up and hugged herself, trying to rub the pain and stiffness from her shoulders. She blinked stupidly at Snape, dazed into docility by the Confundus Charm, just as he'd hoped. Her eyes lit on Alex and she managed a sneer. "What do you want, dwarf?"

_Even with her wits muddled, her hatred of her half-sister is as clear as day._

Alex dangled the pendant in front of Lucretia's face. "Whose life force is this keyed to, Lu?"

"Uncle Andrew," she muttered. "Not that it's any of your business."

Snape raised an eyebrow. In the dim light, he'd mistakenly believed the gem to be a flawed, inferior stone, perhaps a topaz. He realized now that it was a perfect diamond, easily five carats or more. The cloudy appearance was the result of Andrew Corwin's terminal illness. The diamond was a smoky shade of grey. _Is Corwin not as ill as he seems, then? No,_ Snape decided, remembering that diamonds were the hardest of gemstones. Unlike the softer emerald he'd purchased for Alex, the diamond probably wouldn't turn completely black until the Corwin patriarch was actually at the brink of death.

As Alex continued to question Lucretia, Snape quickly continued his efforts to clean the woman up. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw where the cords had cut deeply as she'd struggled. He fished a jar of healing salve out of his pocket and began treating the abrasions. Alex glared at him. "I can't imagine a plausible excuse for these injuries, can you?" he sneered.

"No, I guess not." Alex's face brightened. "Have you got any veritaserum?"

He had a supply in the hidden pocket along with the rest of his stores, but Snape wasn't in any mood to wait out the long interrogation Alex would undoubtedly want to indulge in. "She's bewildered, Alex. Her defenses are down. In all likelihood, she's telling you the truth." He started to put the lid back on the container of salve, then paused, considering the possibility of other visible injuries as the result of Alex's hexes. Snape snorted, remembering the location on his own body that Alex had aimed her wand at earlier. _Risking a fit of jealousy to heal the foolish witch would be sheer idiocy—_and Snape was no idiot. She didn't appear to be in too much discomfort. Any minor damage to Lucretia's private parts would just have to remain. "I shall remove the Confundus Charm and obliviate her now." He pocketed the salve and raised his wand.

——————

Once Lucretia had been sent on her way with her memory of the past hour erased, Snape watched as Alex stalked around the bedroom. She banished the wine Lucretia had summoned, conjured up fresh linens for the bed, and with a final flick of her wand, opened the windows to let in the night breeze. The cool air eradicated the last vestiges of Lucretia's perfume from the air, but the woman was obviously still on Alex's mind. Snape led her to an overstuffed chair and seated himself on the matching ottoman. She said, "Lucretia denied ever meeting Remus Lupin."

Snape nodded. He'd been paying attention while Alex had questioned her. "It's possible that she was just too dazed to remember the encounter."

"Or she really didn't have anything to do with it, and it was me that he visited with after all. And somebody modified my memory."

"We've already explored that possibility," he reminded her.

Alex's eyes were troubled. "Yeah, but Remus wrote that I'd behaved strangely... What would account for that?"

"Your...condition, perhaps? I noticed that you've been taking Muggle medication again. Have you had any problems with the dosage?"

"Oh for gods' sakes, Severus!" She let out an impatient sigh. "Yes, I've been taking my meds, and no, I haven't had any problems. Sheesh. Anyway, even if I had, Remus knows me. He wouldn't have freaked out—"

Snape bristled at the implication that the werewolf knew Alex better than he himself did. "You cannot deny that your behavior becomes irrational if your medications are not properly administered."

"Severus, I get depressed, not psychotic. If Remus thought I was having a depressive episode, he would have said so. He paid for a transatlantic owl to warn you that I was acting strange, not bitchy!"

_She has a point. _He remained silent, but Alex's grin told him that she knew he'd conceded. Snape scowled at her just to keep up appearances.

"Remember my first Order meeting, when Dumbledore cast that revealing spell on Fleur Delacour?" she asked, seemingly changing the subject.

The revealing spell... with Moody and Dumbledore's intervention, the French witch had been able to recall a sinister encounter with a Death Eater. Dumbledore had also cast the spell upon Alex herself, revealing that Snape had obliviated her. He made the connection. "If anyone has been tampering with your mind, the spell would let us know exactly what had been done, and restore any memories that might have been modified or erased," he said slowly.

"Can you cast it?"

"No."

"Sure you could. The incantation is easy..." She turned her back on him, pointedly aiming at a vase of flowers, and performed the spell and wand movements perfectly.

"That's charming, Alex. Tell me about this sinister plot to oblviate the daisies."

She refused to be dissuaded. "Come on, don't tell me you can't cast it. I need to know what's been going on here."

"The spell is easily cast, and just as easily botched. It is far more complicated than it looks. I wouldn't allow anyone other than Albus himself to meddle with your mind in that fashion; you could end up permanently impaired."

Alex grinned wickedly. "You could practice on Lucretia first. We might find out something of use... or you might totally fry her little brain. Either way, it's a win-win situation."

_That's just what I want, _Snape thought sarcastically, _additional participation in your endless vendetta._ Out loud he simply repeated, "No."

"Hah. Some Death Eater you are."

Snape smirked at her. Abruptly, she cast and his transfigured robes vanished, reverting back to the towel he'd been wearing draped around his waist earlier. Slipping into his arms, she began to tug on one end of the fabric, clearly intent on removing even that inadequate barrier. Snape's smirk broadened into a feral grin. "I must warn you, Alex, plying me with sexual favors will not get me to change my mind."

"I know. But it will be fun trying."

———————

Chapter title courtesy of the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens


	13. In the Heat of the Night

Pain. Such terrible pain. Bellatrix Lestrange's mocking laughter, her face looming over him as she cast a fresh _Cruciatus _Curse, not giving him even a moment to recover from her last assault. "Bella, please..." _Please, make it stop..._

"Hush now, Mr. Corwin, everyt'in' gonna be all right now. Here's some morphine to help wit' the pain."

Snape blinked up at the kind, broad face. "Bella?" he asked, daring to hope. _Bella could sometimes be kind..._

"It's Bertrise, Mr. Corwin The day nurse. I switched wit' Andrea, sir, remember?"

Her face, her voice, even the pain... all faded away as the drug took effect.

——————

He was trapped, caged in some dark place. No, not a cage—a high-sided wooden crib. His own bed. In the darkness, relief quickly changed to fear. "Mama?" Severus called tentatively. It was dark, so dark. Not even a single candle left burning. _Keep quiet,_ he warned himself. The little boy waited, then called again, his voice barely a whisper. "Mama?" He waited for the footsteps, the welcome sound of the door opening. Any moment now, he would see her outlined in the glow of _lumos_...

No response. The darkness seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. The distant ticking of a clock seemed to gain volume, becoming the clicking of the long, sharp claws of some monstrous thing, alerted by his voice, creeping closer and closer. Forgetting his resolve to stay silent, he let out a panicked cry. "_Mama!_"

Cordelia padded across the room and turned the plastic knob on the electric lamp near the crib with practiced ease. "Shh, Erich. It's okay, Sissy's here. Nana forgot to turn on the night light, didn't she?" The dim glow of the bulb revealed the ersatz British nanny snoring softly on a day bed in the corner. The little girl shook her head and tutted disapprovingly. "Nana could sleep through an earthquake." She reached through the bars of the crib and rubbed the toddler's back until his breathing slowed to a sleepy rhythm once more.

——————

Severus Snape sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Elbows propped on bony knees, he leaned his head in his hands, grasping at the dream that was already starting to fade. He'd been a child, alone and frightened in the dark. An image came to mind, the face of his mother. _Irrelevant,_ he told himself. _It was the child crying out, not I._ He replaced his mother's face with another's. Lucretia, not dazed and vacant-eyed as he'd last seen her, but warm and maternal, leaning down to soothe a frightened little one. Snape stifled a snort. Lucretia was hardly convincing in the role of loving mother.

But Lucretia's child—either Erich or Cordelia—wasn't the only one whose dreams he'd shared. There was another in the mansion whose slumber had been disturbed, but not because of fear._ No, not fear. Pain..._ Snape could only vaguely recall it now, the searing agony deep within his bones, burning them to ashes. The single clue was obvious enough. _Ah. That would be Andrew Corwin, dying a slow, agonizing death. _

Silently, he rose to his feet, scooping his wand up from the bedside table. "_Lumos." _By its faint glow he first conjured clothing, then levitated the stack of books he'd brought up from the basement library. The tomes floated after him obediently as he crossed the room to an armchair, stacking themselves neatly at his feet as he sat down. Snape selected a book and flipped it open across his lap with a muttered spell. Since sleep was no longer an option, he might as well do a bit of spying.

——————

He'd been skimming through the various books for perhaps a quarter of an hour when he heard Alex begin to stir. Snape didn't look up as she left the bed, reciting a spell to light the remaining candles. She pulled a matching armchair close to his and picked up a slim volume of Muggle travel photographs. "Petroglyphs from the American Southwest? This was in Daddy's library?"

"Mm-hm." Snape put down a fragile parchment scroll and hefted a large, leather-bound tome. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Now that book looks totally creepy. And highly illegal." She gave him a teasing smile. "The Dark arts, I can understand. But prehistoric rock art? Your taste in reading material is kind of eclectic, Severus."

"Your friend Locke's taste, you mean. These books are the ones he's been studying recently." Snape smirked. "Useful little spell I picked up from Madam Pince." He pushed a dictionary toward her with his foot. "See what you make of that."

For several minutes there was no sound except the occasional turning of a page. Snape watched Alex surreptitiously as she sat curled in the chair, her legs tucked under her, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she read. He hid a smile; without make-up and with her hair hanging loose, it was easy to imagine her as she must have been in her college days. A sheltered, bookish girl more at home in the library or the laboratory than at the parties one would expect a wealthy, attractive young woman to enjoy.

"There are some notes here in the margins," she said finally, "but this is ancient Aztec. The Aztecs lived in Mexico," she added at Snape's blank look. "They developed an incredibly accurate calendar, and their wizards did some amazing things with astronomy. Historians know a lot about their civilization, but I doubt an Aztec dictionary would be much use to Heph if he's trying to decipher the meaning of the petroglyphs in these photos." Alex opened the Muggle book and displayed a picture of ochre-colored cliffs carved with spirals, wavy lines, and strange masked figures. "These are Mogollon, or maybe Anasazi—I'm really not sure." She shrugged. "I never had much interest in Ancient Runes."

"Would there be a... Pertinent dictionary available?" Snape avoided pronouncing the unfamiliar names.

"I doubt it. Nothing definitive, anyway. There are tons of theories about the desert petroglyphs." Alex grinned. "There are quite a few Muggles who believe they were created by space aliens!"

"We hardly need further proof that Muggles will believe anything," Snape pointed out dryly. "Locke's interest in Indian rock art is fairly recent," he mused. "Predating your return to the family fold by only a few months."

"I don't see any connection," Alex said.

"Don't you? Prior to Hogwarts, you lived in the desert for five years. Your mentor was an Indian."

"Severus, there are lots of American Indians in the U.S. They were the first inhabitants." She grinned wickedly at him. "Why don't you ask Hephaestus himself why the sudden interest in ancient petroglyphs? 'Course, you'd have to admit that we've been spying on him..."

Snape scowled. "Locke is a very dangerous man, Alex."

"And you're a very paranoid one." She covered her mouth with one hand but couldn't quite hide an immense yawn. "It's three a.m. Come on back to bed. But not in that thing," she added, giving Snape's attire a disapproving look.

He looked down at the knee-length grey nightshirt he'd conjured, faded and threadbare but perfectly serviceable. "What? It's comfortable," he told her, baffled.

Alex just shook her head. She rose to her feet. "Fine. Enough snooping. Come to bed."

Snape waved his wand and extinguished all the lights except for one candle. "I have no intention of sleeping. The nightmare I had last night? You were right," he admitted. "It was a vision. It happened again tonight, which is what awakened me in the first place."

"I don't understand—"

"Think about it," he told Alex impatiently. "The same anomaly that links the two of us also links_ me_ to anyone who bears your family's version of the Dark Mark."

"That can't be possible," Alex argued. "If anyone from my family can share the dream bond with you, then it would follow that anyone with one of You-Know-Who's Dark Marks would share the same kind of bond with me. I lived in Great Britain for almost a year! The place was swarming with Death Eaters, and I never had any visions about anyone except you."

Snape suppressed an involuntary shudder. _Alex sharing the dream bond with the Dark Lord's followers, allowing the Death Eaters access to her mind... To visions in which so many of my secrets would have been revealed._ He collected himself. _If such visions had ever occurred to even the least of the Dark Lord's loyal minions, I'd long since be dead. _To Alex, he said, "Chalk it up to sheer dumb luck. You spent most of your time within the environs of Hogwarts castle—the most heavily warded location in the British Isles."

Alex sat back down, her face a pale oval in the single candle's faint glow. There was silence in the room for almost a minute. When she spoke again her voice trembled a bit. "Our rooms in Nocturne Alley. You insisted that we ward them with every protective spell you could think of. I thought you were just being paranoid, but if you hadn't—gods! Every time I went to sleep... Imagine, Lucius Malfoy inside my head! Eew."

Snape scowled. "I am cautious, not paranoid." _Now_ _will you heed my warnings about Hephaestus Locke? _But Alex was stifling another yawn. "Go back to sleep," he told her gently, suppressing his impatience with some difficulty. _Alex is right—no more spying tonight. Not while she and her family sleep! But tomorrow... _

——————

Chapter title courtesy of Quincy Jones and Alan and Marilyn Bergman.


	14. Could This be Magic

Severus Snape paused on the threshold of John Corwin's sickroom. The hallway behind him was empty, the other inhabitants of the mansion all occupied in various ways. The dying man was asleep in his web of Muggle medical devices, as expected. The young nurse attending him was also asleep, dozed off in an armchair near the high hospital bed.

Snape blinked; there was something not quite right. He was expecting an older woman, a Negro. _The night nurse, _he realized. _I remember her from the visions. This is the day nurse. _Satisfied that all was as it should be, Snape conjured up a clipboard and silently crossed the room to loom over the girl. _Andrea Casciato_, he read the nametag pinned to her stiff twill uniform. She'd eschewed the typical navy blue or maroon blouse in favor of one with a pattern of little kittens, he noted with a sneer. Dark roots showed along the part of her fluffy blonde coiffure. Snape shook his head at the inept Muggle attempt at transfiguration. "Miss Casciato. Having a nice nap, are we?" He was still shaking his head disapprovingly when her brown eyes flew open wide.

"Oh! No, I was just... um..." her voice trailed off, flustered. Her eyes darted to her patient, lying there unaware, his breath rasping softly amid the hum of machinery. She looked momentarily relieved. "Oh!" she squeaked again as Snape tossed his clipboard onto the flat top of one of the Muggle machines, all metal and blinking lights. He loomed even closer, closing his hands over her wrists on the armrests of the chair.

"You're very lucky Mr. Locke didn't catch you sleeping on the job," he murmured silkily, enjoying the girl's discomfort. She was breathing fast, pressed back against the chair as far as she could go, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Those big brown eyes darted between him and the bed where Corwin slept. Should she scream, as she obviously wanted to do, and risk her employer's disapproval? Or should she remain quiet? "A wise decision," Snape told her as she stared at him mutely. "Cooperate with me, and I'll overlook your incompentence for now," he murmured low in her ear. She jerked her head away at the feel of his breath against her neck. Snape suppressed a chuckle. The fact that most women found him repellent had ceased to bother him long ago. In cases like this, it was actually quite useful.

He squeezed her wrists for a moment, digging in with his nails, not quite enough to bruise. Snape felt satisfaction as the nurse stifled her cry of pain, glancing fearfully at her slumbering patient—he had intimidated her sufficiently. She would be malleable. "I've been sent here to investigate certain irregularities in Mr. Corwin's treatment," he lied smoothly, releasing her and stepping behind the chair. "I just need you to answer a few questions, Miss Casciato."

"Um, all right," she stammered. "I – I won't get in any trouble, then?"

"Not if you cooperate." Snape grinned. _Too easy. _He retrieved the clipboard and riffled through the papers on it purely for the girl's benefit, silently drawing his wand. She didn't even flinch as he murmured the incantation, no doubt assuming he was simply muttering to himself as he consulted his notes. Her mind was laid open to him as the Revealing spell took effect.

From Snape's point of view, it was as though a shimmering rainbow aura encircled her head. He knew, from observing when Albus Dumbledore cast the same spell, that the effect would be completely invisible to onlookers. The aura was tattered in places, her recent memories riddled with jagged holes. Snape felt disgust and an unaccustomed sense of pity; whomever had _obliviated_ her had done so carelessly, callously ripping into her mind. He waved his wand through the shreds and commanded her to remember.

Her body jerked upright and she shuddered. "Just relax and tell me what happened, Miss Casciato," Snape said gently, drawing up another chair and holding his clipboard as though preparing to take notes. _Barely any need to maintain the charade,_ he thought. The young woman was absorbed in her newly-awakened memories.

"It's about the blood transfusions, isn't it ?"

Snape nodded. _Blood transfusions? Must be something to do with Muggle medicine._ "Tell me about it," he said, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

"Well, Miss Corwin and her father do have the same blood type. She came in and sat down right here where I'm sitting, and Mr. Locke told me to draw blood from her. I know I shouldn't have, not without a doctor's orders," the nurse said defensively, "but Mr. Locke insisted."

_Indeed._ Imperio _would be too easy on this gullible young Muggle. _Snape gave a mental shrug. _Locke probably didn't even need to use magic at all. _"You won't be punished," Snape reassured her. "Go on."

"I took a pint of blood, but when I went to take out the needle, Mr. Locke wouldn't let me. He made me take a... Another pint from Miss Corwin."

_Clever,_ Snape mused. _Use the Muggle nurse to extract a Blood Sacrifice from Alex. How modern. How very American. The sterile needle rather than the black-bladed ritual dagger. Clinical. Tidy and antiseptic. _His eyes narrowed as he looked at the hapless nurse. _She's lying, trying to cover her own arse. Not surprising, really._ "Another pint?" Snape asked sharply. "So you took only two?" The nurse couldn't meet his eyes. "Answer me, Miss Casciato. Did you take two pints, or did you take more?"

"More." Her lips formed the word without sound. "Oh god, I'm going to be fired for this!" she cried.

Sanpe lowered his voice, impatient with the silly girl's show of anguish . "Miss Casciato, I told you that you would not be punished... if you cooperate fully with my investigation. What happened next ?"

"After I... after Mr. Locke made me..." She swallowed convulsively. "They gave Miss Corwin some medicine to drink. Um, red medicine. It looked kind of like cough syrup. She... she seemed all right, after she drank it."

_Blood-Replenishing Potion_, Snape thought. "Go on."

"Then... well, then, Mr. Locke and Mr. Corwin started... um, chanting, I guess." The girl looked flustered. "They had, um, it looked like... magic wands," she blurted. "I'm not crazy," she added. "Am I?"

"No," Snape said shortly. "What did it look like, when they chanted? What effect took place?" The young woman looked surprised, both that he believed her and that he expected the magic spell to yield tangible results. "Well?" he demanded impatiently. "Something must have happened. What was it?" _Muggles_, he thought, exasperated.

"Well, yes, there was this silver... fog, I guess. Silver mist. It kind of... came out of Miss Corwin, you know what I mean?" Snape nodded. "And it... it went and hovered over Mr. Corwin for a while, and then sort of faded away."

"Into him." It was not a question. The nurse nodded.

"Was it really magic?" she asked plaintively.

Snape ignored her query, already casting. "_Obliviate," _he intoned, once again ripping the memories from her mind. "I came in and caught you napping, Miss Casciato. You were embarrassed and tried to apologize. I left without speaking to you. That is all you will remember of our encounter." Snape's brows drew down in a frown of concentration as he used all the precision he could muster to remove only the past twenty minutes from her mind and construct the false memory to replace them.

He spun on his heel and left the room. John Corwin slept on, as oblivious as his _obliviated_ caretaker.

—————

Chapter title courtesy of Van Halen.


	15. Tell Me Lies

Severus Snape spent the next several minutes roundly cursing Remus Lupin. _Some Defense specialist he is—couldn't even recognize a victim of trauma-induced age regression when she sits down directly in front of him and hammers out _Für Elise _on the piano. _How many years of Alex's life had been stolen away by the Dark ritual? _Or rituals..._ Snape was willing to bet the episode revealed by the Muggle nurse hadn't been the only time Locke and Corwin had attempted to siphon Alex's life force. If only Lupin's message had made the situation clear...

Snape abandoned that line of thought, satisfying though it was to blame the werewolf. It was only in hindsight that the meaning of Alex's strange behavior had become clear. He held on to the anger, however. Better to focus on the familiar rage than on the stomach-churning mix of emotions that the nurse's memories had inspired.

The Blood Rites obviously hadn't worked as Locke had intended them to; Andrew Corwin was still dying, and Alex was still alive. Alive, and apparently little the worse for wear. Had Corwin's conscience prevented him from sacrificing his daughter's life to save his own? Or had he simply waited too long, while deep within his bones the unseen cancer spread and thrived, leaving him too weak to drain Alex's life force completely away?

Those possibilities, too, Snape put aside to focus on the task at hand. Alex had to be told. For just a brief moment, he wished they were both back at Hogwarts. _McGonagall would do a much better job of this than I... _But Minerva McGonagall wasn't even at Hogwarts at the moment, and neither were they. Snape took a minute to empty his mind of the turmoil of emotions, then silently opened the door to Alex's room.

She was seated cross-legged on the floor next to a little girl whose sandy-brown ponytail was tied up with a large satin bow. They both had their backs to Snape, the child completely absorbed in her play, and Alex completely absorbed in the child.

Snape's eyes wandered over the jumble of toys spread out all around the pair. None of the items looked familiar, which was unsurprising. _Little girls play with dolls, _he reminded himself. _Of course,_ _by the time they matriculate at Hogwarts, they're generally too old for such things, thank Merlin. _He'd never devoted a lot of thought to the subject, but somehow he'd imagined dolls to be soft, cuddly objects, miniaturized infants or toddlers designed to evoke a maternal response in their pint-sized caretakers. These dolls were formed out of some hard material—plastic, Snape recalled, Muggles were inordinately fond of the stuff—and emphatically adult.

The child noticed him first, turning around to look up at him curiously, grey-green eyes large in her small, pointed face. Her expression was disconcertingly mature. Alex, by contrast, looked like a child as she grinned impishly at him. "Cordelia, this is my friend, Professor Snape. Severus, this is Cordelia. We're playing Barbies. Want to join us?"

"No." He glared at Cordelia, who returned his gaze, unblinking and seemingly unintimidated. "What I'd like to do is go somewhere, ah, _private, _and talk."

"In a few minutes, 'kay? Astrid is taking the kids for a walk at eleven."

Snape glanced at the clock. "Very well. Five minutes." _No more. _He took a seat in a nearby armchair, suppressing his annoyance with difficulty. Didn't he suffer enough through the school year? Spending time in the company of a child during the summer holidays was asking a bit much. Fortunately, the child in question had returned her attention to the dolls.

"Should she wear the blue bathing suit or the purple one?" Cordelia asked.

Alex considered, her expression solemn. "The blue, I think. It matches her eye shadow."

Once dressed, the doll was added to a long line of others, identical, at least to Snape's eye, save for hair color and apparel. Scanty apparel, for the most part. He'd seen Muggle prostitutes who exposed less flesh. Snape amused himself for several moments by imagining Molly Weasley's scandalized reaction to the playthings. Noticing his smirk, Alex gave him a quizzical look. "These toys are hardly suitable for an impressionable young girl," he told her primly.

"You're kidding. Every little girl dreams of growing up to be just like Barbie."

Snape considered the half-dressed Barbie dolls with their inhumanly long legs and exaggerated breasts. He gave Alex a long, deliberate look, running his eyes over her body. "That," he said dryly, "would explain a great deal."

Just then, a light knock sounded at the door. The au pair had arrived just in time.

——————

Alex led him through the imposing marble foyer and out onto the front steps of the mansion. He watched with interest as a long, polished black automobile rolled up and a uniformed driver hopped out and opened the door for them. The young man's ginger hair and freckles inevitably led to thoughts of the various Weasley offspring. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Vincent," Alex smiled, "we'd like to go to Salem. It's one of the biggest Muggle tourist attractions in New England," she informed Snape brightly.

He scowled and indicated his long black robes. "Perhaps I should change clothes, then. I have no desire to be gawked at by Muggles."

Alex grinned. "No worries there. Trust me, you'll fit in just fine." As the car pulled out of the driveway, she motioned with her wand and a clear panel slid across, dividing passengers from driver. It closed with a soft squelching noise. "It's imperturbable," Alex explained, "Vincent can't overhear a thing. Not that he would gossip. Daddy pays well to ensure the staff's loyalty."

Snape was about to comment that there were other methods of obtaining loyalty when suddenly the limousine accelerated. The trees lining the roadside blended into a green blur. Buildings loomed abruptly on either side, then disappeared just as quickly. The white steeple of a country church sailed past—Snape turned his head to watch it recede rapidly behind them. By the time he turned back the car had passed through two more New England villages. Soon the landscape had changed dramatically. The rolling woodlands had been left behind, replaced by coastal vistas.

Gradually, the car slowed to a non-magical pace and parked on a sunny street crowded with shops. Muggles jostled along the brick sidewalks. Snape and Alex joined the throng. As she'd predicted, Snape's customary garments barely earned him a second glance. There were any number of traditionally clad witches and wizards strolling openly among the tourists in their Muggle shorts and baseball caps. Bemused, he followed as Alex threaded her way through the crowd. The shop windows drew his eye; signs advertising fortune-telling and tours of haunted houses vied for space with incense, crystals, plush toy unicorns and dragons, and tall pointy hats. Snape's lip curled in a sneer as they passed a window display of magic wands—red and blue, pink and purple, sporting glittery stars and tinsel. There was no genuine magic here, only an inaccurate, misguided Muggle perception of the wizarding world.

"What is this place, Alex?"

"Salem, Massachusetts, site of the infamous witch trials of sixteen ninety-two," she told him. "A group of young girls began accusing their neighbors of practicing Dark magic. Ultimately, nineteen of the accused were hanged."

"All innocent Muggles, I presume?" Throughout history, Muggle-led witch hunts had so rarely yielded any real witches or wizards that it was practically a given.

Alex nodded. "My great-great grandfather," she waved her hand vaguely, indicating an ancestor an indeterminate number of generations removed from the present day, "Jonathan Corwin, was one of the judges on the court of _Oyer_ and_ Terminer._"

"A Dark wizard, presiding over the trial and execution of innocents," Snape breathed, impressed.

"Ironic, huh? Ol' Jonathan Corwin was a real S.O.B., according to family legend." Alex led him into a restaurant. "And speaking of ironic, witchcraft is now one of Salem's biggest industries."

"False witchcraft, you mean." Snape glowered at the restaurant's decor—flickering candles and flowing indigo curtains hung with crystal stars.

"Mostly," Alex admitted. She ducked behind a swath of drapery. Her voice, slightly hollow now and muffled by the heavy folds of fabric, drifted back to him. "This place is the real thing, though."

Snape twitched the curtain aside impatiently and followed her through the secret passage.

——————

"So tell me what new skeleton you've found lurking in Heph's closet," Alex asked once they were seated at a small table in a private alcove.

Her tone was light and teasing, but Snape noted the tension in the set of her shoulders. He decided to be blunt. "I interviewed your father's nurse this morning," he began. "Your father and Locke attempted a Blood Rite, with you as the sacrificial victim."

"In front of Andrea? And I was the sacrifice? Um, Severus, don't you think I'd have noticed?" She tilted her head and held out her arms, bare wrists and exposed throat unmarked by the obsidian blade of the ritual dagger.

"The nurse was an unwitting participant," Snape explained. "Locke directed her to withdraw blood for the ritual with a Muggle medical implement."

Alex slumped with relief. There was laughter in her voice as she shook her head. "Severus, you misunderstood. That wasn't some Dark rite—it's called a transfusion. Daddy and I have the same blood type. I donated blood for his treatment, to help build up his strength. It was completely harmless."

Snape was struck once again by the genius of disguising the ritual as a medical procedure. The ruse had made her a willing participant in her own victimization. Anger flared again; _how could she have been so naïve, so trusting? _"No, Alex," he told her harshly. "The nurse's account was accurate, despite her ignorance of what was really happening. She described a Blood Rite, designed to drain the life force from the victim. Locke plainly hoped to cure your father by supplementing not only his blood, but his very life, with yours." Snape spoke with confidence. He'd witnessed one such ritual murder himself, in the service of the Dark Lord.

It was clear that Alex believed him now. Her face paled. "Every time..." she whispered.

Snape realized she was referring to the blood transfusions, or donations, or whatever she had called them. _So I was right. They attempted the ritual more than once. _Perhaps Corwin had hoped to save his own life without utterly destroying his daughter. Perhaps he was able to justify the theft of years of her life... after all, a pure-blood witch could expect a natural lifespan of well over a hundred years. What was a decade or two?

After a long moment Alex asked the question Snape had been dreading. "How many years did..." Her voice faltered.

"I don't know. Judging by the age regression Lupin witnessed, more than ten." Snape paused. Since he'd made the discovery, the temptation to lie to her had been strong. He reminded himself that she wouldn't thank him for it, should she find out the truth. "Perhaps twenty," he said reluctantly.

"Now we're back to Remus Lupin and the piano? I thought we'd decided that was Lucretia, playing a prank."

She was grasping at minor details, trying to put off dealing with her father's betrayal. Snape grasped just as eagerly at the distraction Alex had provided. He slipped into lecturing mode. "The Dark wizard Grindewald performed many variations of Blood Rites, allowing many of his victims to live... For a time, that is, so that he could document the effects. His experiments revealed that when the body suffers a trauma such as the forcible removal of life force, effectively taking years off the victim's lifespan, age regression occurs." Alex just gave him a blank look. "The mind copes with the shock of the loss of years of life by forgetting—denying—their existence," Snape elaborated. "A hypothetical example; a man of, say, twenty, who'd had nineteen years worth of his life force drained away by a Blood Rite would, for example, regress all the way back to infancy."

"So you're saying that when Remus visited, what freaked him out was me doing this age regression thing?"

"You played the piano, a pastime you'd abandoned by your teenage years. You wore your hair tied in a bow, a style you once wore as a child. Lupin didn't realize it, but you were reliving a portion of your childhood. You didn't recognize him, of course, because the two of you didn't meet until last year. As far as the child Alexandria Corwin was concerned, Lupin was a stranger. The effect, as you yourself experienced, is generally temporary."

The waitress chose that moment to bustle over to their table and ask if they needed anything. Alex summoned a bright smile and assured the young witch that everything was fine. The cheerful facade crumbled as soon as the waitress was out of earshot. "This is a lot to deal with, Severus," she said shakily. "I... I need a few minutes alone."

_At least she didn't cry, _Snape thought. All in all, he thought he'd done rather well. "Send the bill to Andrew Corwin," he told the dumbfounded waitress as he brushed past her and back out into Muggle Salem.

Alex was crying now, he realized a few minutes later as he followed her down the teeming Salem streets. He supposed he ought to attempt to comfort her. Lacking any practical notion of how to go about doing so, Snape settled for simply following at a distance. His longer stride made it easy to keep up. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the driver, Vincent, trailing along behind in the magicked automobile. _ Loyalty, indeed, _he thought with a snort. _Most likely, the boy had been instructed to report back to Locke._

After a while, Alex's muffled sobs subsided, replaced by some of the more colorful swear words in her repertoire. By then, they'd reached a pleasant park. Like every other part of town on this sunny summer day, it was crowded. Passersby looked curiously at the diminutive, tear-streaked woman. Snape gave them all withering glares. He noted that the limousine had parked nearby.

Alex sank down on a park bench. "I'm sorry you had to be dragged into all this," she said, conjuring a handkerchief to wipe her eyes as he took a seat beside her. She gave a short, bitter laugh. "My family is more dysfunctional than I ever realized. I always thought of Heph as a sort of adopted big brother. Even after my falling out with Daddy..." She cursed softly. "It's just so hard to believe he would put Daddy up to something like this."

Snape didn't respond. What could he say? She was still denying her father's active role in the Rites. Snape rubbed his left forearm absently. He frowned at Alex's next words.

"You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to press charges against Hephaestus Locke in wizard's court!"

"That would be most unwise."

"Hell, Severus, do you think I should just let him get away with what he's done?"

A mother strolling by with two small children in tow looked at them curiously. "Lower your voice!" Snape hissed. His eyes darted along the crowded pathway. Hadn't he seen that same short, stockily built man back in the restaurant? The stranger passed on and was lost in the crowd._ Now I _am _being paranoid. _ Snape rubbed his arm again, stopping abruptly as he realized what he was doing. The Dark Mark was paining him, a dull ache rather than the fierce burning that would indicate the summons of the Dark Lord. _Get a hold of yourself,_ Snape told himself savagely. The sensation was psychosomatic. He was letting his emotions get the better of him. "I've seen powerful wizards like Lucius Malfoy almost literally get away with murder far too many times to think that any court could bring a man like Hephaestus Locke to justice," he told Alex in a calmer tone.

She'd dropped her head into her hands. Her voice had lost its angry edge when she asked, "then what should I do?"

_Come away with me, right now, back to Hogwarts,_ he thought. _Forget your father, your family, the fortune you stand to inherit. Forget Alexandria Corwin. Go back to the way things were between us. _Snape blocked the impulsive thoughts—_the implausible fantasies of a fool!—_behind a cold facade. Out loud, he said, "Do as you think best. But proceed with caution, Miss Corwin. Locke is extremely dangerous. Under no circumstances should you return to your father's manor."

She laughed again, wildly, without humor. "I have to go back, Severus."

Snape snarled with exasperation. "Why ask my advice if you have no intention of taking it?" He wanted to shake her. _ I cannot protect you from Locke! _The admission rankled. Alex was still holding her head in her hands, refusing to meet his eyes. He grabbed her by the shoulders, ignoring the fresh pain that flared from the Dark Mark. "Alex. Do not go back there."

She pushed his hands away angrily. "Dammit, Severus, I don't have any choice. I've been Summoned."

——————

Author's disclaimer and notes: Jonathan Corwin was a real historical figure involved in the Salem witch trials. My portrayal of him is entirely fictitious, and no offense is intended to the real Jonathan Corwin or any of his ancestors.

I do not claim to own the "Barbie" trademark, although as a child I did own a Barbie or two, a Barbie knock-off named "Maddie Mod" and a Malibu Ken (eek!)

Chapter title courtesy of Fleetwood Mac.


	16. Cursed Diamond

"I don't have any choice. I've been Summoned." Snape grabbed for her arm, but too late. With a pop, Alex disappeared from the park bench.

He cursed softly, glancing around quickly to see if anyone else had observed her abrupt departure. Amazingly, no one in the crowded park had seemed to notice anything unusual. Snape stood and walked swiftly toward the street, the dull ache in his left forearm fading now that Alex had responded to the magical call. His eyes scanned the area, looking for a secluded spot where he might apparate himself. Once again, he cursed. Alex had rushed into certain danger unprepared. _She is in no mental state to—_

"Sir, may I be of service?" The chauffeur—Alex had referred to him as Victor—stood waiting deferentially, his hat in his hands.

Snape considered for a moment. "Take me back to Corwin Manor."

"Of course, sir." The young servant's face betrayed no emotion. Unnoticed, a short, stocky man was the only person to pay any heed as the car pulled away from the curb... After all, it was only an ordinary black limousine.

Snape rummaged in the hidden pocket of his robes and produced two small potion bottles. He drained the first, a wit-sharpening potion, at one gulp, unable to completely suppress a shudder at the bitter taste of the armadillo bile that was one of the chief ingredients. He turned the second bottle in his fingers, weighing the possible benefits, before finally deciding to swallow half. The draught was intended to give a wizard faster reflexes; its use was strictly banned for official dueling competitions. But this was no duel. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution. Snape could already feel the side effects beginning, making him feel jittery and wired.

They were passing through a wooded area, the trees nothing but a green blur outside the automobile's windows. Snape rapped on the glass panel, which slid open obligingly. He'd half expected it to remain shut, trapping him in the car... He had his wand out, prepared to battle the chauffeur if any such resistance had been shown. "Stop the vehicle. Let me out here."

"As you wish, sir."

Snape waited until the limousine pulled out of sight, then stepped deeper into the woods. They were sparse, birch or poplar or some other small, pale-barked trees, alive with the chirping of birds and the soft, scurrying sounds of squirrels. The sun beat down through the leaves, hot on his black-robed shoulders. He stopped when he was completely out of sight of the little country road, muttering such spells of defense and concealment as seemed best for heading into battle. Snape smiled thinly. _Paranoia... Perhaps. _He emptied his mind of all thought save this: the mental image of Alex's room.

With a soft pop, Snape appeared amid the clutter of plastic dolls. Absently, he noted a lone male figure lying among the Barbies. Smooth, emasculate, it stared sightlessly up at him with a vacuous smile. He kicked it aside and strode from the room.

There was no doubt that a battle indeed was being waged, or at least a family squabble of Parkinson proportions. As he made his way swiftly to Andrew Corwin's sickroom, the screams of Locke's two children drowned out everything else.

Lucretia was shouting incantations, battering at the door with spells. "_Bombarda!_" The door shook, but held fast. Locked and warded, Snape decided. No point trying to gain entry here, not when she was so obviously failing.

The sobbing children were doing their best to obey the Summons. Cordelia pounded the wooden panels with small, futile fists while her brother clung to his mother's legs, tugging on her skirts. Lucretia ignored him. Snape winced at the din. Even with the wit-sharpening potion, it was impossible to think. "_Silencio!_" Erichthonius' face, red and tear-streaked, registered surprise for a moment. Then the toddler opened his mouth wide and resumed his howling in silence.

Snape recalled the view from Corwin's window and apparated to the grounds. Were the windows warded? He made a quick note of Alex's location in the room, then blasted the furthest window to bright, tinkling shards of glass. "_Reducto!_" He stepped over the shattered sill, muttering a hasty shield charm.

Hephaestus Locke was at the side of the tall hospital bed, locked in combat with Andrew Corwin. Wands at one another's throats, they grappled. Magical energy crackled around the pair like captive lightning. Snape spared half a second to wonder how Corwin was managing to hold Locke at bay, then ducked down and raised his shield charm over his head as an armchair came sailing through the air.

Alex was levitating furniture, medical devices, whatever she could bring to hand. Snape bared his teeth in a wolfish grin; he'd seen her use the tactic before. Her target was the young nurse he'd questioned earlier in the day.

"_Incarcerous!_" With a bang, magical ropes snaked from the end of Snape's wand and bound themselves tightly around the nurse's torso. She struggled, straining her arms and shoulders against the ropes, turning to face him. Her once fluffy blond hair now hung in lank disarray, her pallid face devoid of expression. He watched the ropes pop as if they'd been no more than cobwebs. She picked up a metal cabinet that had fallen on its side and hurled it at him.

"_Leviosa!_" He levitated it, stopping it scant inches from him, then tossed it to the floor. Alex cast him a grateful look and darted to the other side of the room, intent on reaching her father.

The nurse lumbered toward Snape. The wide eyes that had looked at him with such fear just that morning were now blank, empty of human thought or emotion. Snape backpedaled as she picked up the leg of a shattered chair and swung it at his head. Corwin had Summoned his family to defend him, and Locke had retaliated, killing the Muggle nurse and raising her as an Inferius. _The corpse must have been ordered to stop Alex from reaching her father,_ he thought, his mind racing. The Inferius would fight with superhuman strength, to prevent anyone from interfering with Locke.

But Inferi had limitations. _Long on brute force, short on intellect. _ Snape had already distracted this one from its duty. He ducked as it swung its make-shift club again, sending a volley of minor curses to force it back just enough to keep himself out of danger. Another swing of the club, this one whistling alarmingly close to his skull. He darted behind a side table, then abruptly switched course and ran for the opposite wall, hexing the lumbering Inferius as he went. It bought him enough time to risk a glance at Alex.

She'd fallen to her knees amid a scattering of Muggle medical paraphernalia from the upended metal cart. Time seemed to slow as he watched her select a small tube from which a long, wicked-looking needle protruded. _ A syringe,_ Snape recalled... He'd plucked the Muggle term from the mind of the nurse, during his interrogation. Alex levitated it into the air. It wavered for a moment as she aimed it, then flew like an arrow, straight for Locke.

The animated corpse had managed to close with him. Snape knocked it off its feet with a jelly-legs curse, but with uncanny strength, it shook off the jinx and lunged at him again. Thus he missed seeing Alex's missile stab Locke in the jugular.

Andrew Corwin didn't waste a second. The magical lightning surging around him changed from bluish-white to green as Locke, distracted by the stinging pain of the needle, slapped the syringe from his neck. "_Avada kedavra,_" Corwin intoned with surprising strength. A rush of sound like a gale-force wind filled the sickroom as the green light gathered at the tip of Corwin's wand and shot forth to envelop Locke.

Snape turned just in time to see the almost comic look of stunned amazement that crossed Locke's face just before he fell to the floor.

Locke's share of the magical lightning that had surrounded his duel with Corwin withdrew into his lifeless body. His back arched, his legs and arms flopping like a marionette's. Snape felt his hair stand completely on end. Lightning shot forth from Locke's eyes and mouth, filling the room with a crackle of ozone and a white-hot glare that burned the images into Snape's retinas even as they flickered and strobed, black and white, black and white: The Inferius, falling over like a broken doll. White, and black and white again. Alex, already on the floor, scrambling for cover, disappearing from his sight as the light strobed to black. Then white; the door, finally bursting asunder, Lucretia and the children half-falling into the room, the little ones staring down at their father in shock and horror. Black, then white. Corwin, sitting straight up in bed with a calm, distant smile on his face. Black. Black, and white no more, as Snape lost consciousness and joined the rest.

——————

"Father, father, no—"

"Hush, child, climb up here and sit beside me. Wipe your tears... There, that's better."

"Grandpa," Cordelia whispered in a trembling voice, "I-I think someone has killed father. There's blood on his neck, and he won't wake up, even when I shake him."

Corwin took the little girl into his arms, wincing in pain as he pulled her against him. He shifted her slight weight onto the pillow. "Hush, child," he repeated. "A little blood. It's nothing. 'Behold, I tell you a mystery,'" he quoted ironically. "'We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed'... Your father has gone on to a bett—" Here he winced again, and sweat broke out across his brow. "To a different place," he amended with a harsh laugh once he was able to speak again. "My punishment for lying to an innocent child, eh? But come now, be quiet and you will soon see some magic..."

He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes for several long minutes, breathing shallowly, gathering his strength. "The pain... Ah, but I see it all so clearly now... She is the key... _Accio_ gem," Corwin muttered, "_accio _wand." Lucretia's diamond pendant broke loose from its chain around her neck and sailed through the air to Corwin's hand, followed closely by Locke's wand. "Watch, child," he commanded. "I must live long enough to finish this out... She is the key! I must bind her to me. Take your father's wand, Cordelia. Lend me but a little of your strength for just a moment."

Corwin folded long, gnarled fingers around the child's small fist, clutching the diamond in his other hand. He raised up and began to chant weakly, hoarsely, but steadily, in a harsh, guttural language. Cordelia's eyes grew wide as wisps of silver mist eddied across the floor and oozed up the high metal side of the sickbed. More wisps seemed to rise from the old man himself, joining the others. They coalesced in the air above the cloudy gem. Corwin's hand guided Cordelia's in arcane gestures, then the chanting reached a climax and the silver mist sank into the diamond.

He fell back, gasping, and Cordelia gave him a worried look. "Should I wake mother?"

"No, no let her be. Let her sleep..." He took the wand from her hand and waved it once over her head. "Sleep, child."

For the second time in an hour, Snape's vision went black.

* * *

Author's notes: Corwin's quote is from the Bible, First Corinthians, Chapter 15, verse 51. 

Chapter title courtesy of the Black Crowes.


	17. Someday You'll be Mine

Snape lay still where he had fallen, listening. All was quiet in the room where Corwin and Locke's life and death struggle had taken place. He opened his eyes and turned his head cautiously at first, then sat up and looked around boldly.

Andrew Corwin lay back against his pillows, looking like one already dead. Snape took note of the needle still taped to his arm, though the tubing that it had been attached to had been torn off during his struggle with Locke. Did the Muggle medical devices do him any good at all? He should be reconnected to them, and soon, Snape supposed.

His main concern was Alex. There she lay, underneath the bed, curled on her side. Snape knelt and gathered her in his arms, scowling when he saw the lines etched across her forehead and at the corners of her eyes, the streaks of grey in her hair. Corwin had bound her life force to his... The dying man was draining her essence with alarming speed.

For a moment, he doubted the details, still so sharp and clear in his mind. How was it that he could remember the vision? Perhaps the information was suspect, some sort of trap? Then he remembered the foul taste of armadillo bile burning his throat. The wit-sharpening potion had enabled him to remember.

Alex stirred and leaned into him, still under the influence of the sleep spell Corwin had laid over the room. With a quick jab of his wand, Snape righted an undamaged chair and sat, holding her in his lap. He pulled the emerald pendant from the neckline of her blouse and watched it grow dark and cold as he gathered his thoughts.

So Corwin had bound her to him... Incredible, that the old man had still possessed the strength! Snape shrugged. Incredible it might be, but that was the reality he was going to have to deal with. The ties of blood were strong, he supposed, and Corwin himself had marked Alex with the Dark Mark, when she'd been but a child. It wasn't difficult to imagine that the Dark ritual had simply reinforced what had already existed.

So be it. But didn't he and Alex share a similar bond, through his own Dark Mark? An anomaly, to be sure, but nonetheless, the bond had proved to be a strong one. And sex had a binding power of its own...

**

* * *

**

They were in the suite of rooms in Knockturn Alley, the winter darkness falling fast outside the windows. Alex yanked the curtains shut as he kindled a blaze in the cold ashes of the fireplace. He cursed softly. The room was musty and chill. The House Elves had been neglecting their duties.

She laughed, slipping her arms around his waist under the heavy black traveling cloak. "Severus, you've warded the place so tight, even the hotel staff can't get in."

Snape blinked—could he really have created a barrier that would stop a House Elf? The thought would keep; Alex had twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to hers for a kiss. He tossed his wand aside carelessly, shedding cloak and robes with equal abandon. She shivered as he tugged her gown off her shoulders, whether from cold or from desire, he didn't know. He didn't care. His hands caressed her arms, her neck, her waist. His mouth left hers at last and followed the path of his hands, devouring her breasts. Her flesh felt fever-hot, even as the chill air of the room raised goosebumps on her skin. Alex cried out and pulled him closer, dragging him down onto the hearth rug.

They coupled there on the floor amid the tangle of hastily discarded clothing. "I missed you," she gasped.

"We see each other every day," he chuckled. It came out sounding like a growl. Five days a week, he studiously ignored her, or treated her with the same professional discourtesy he showed to the rest of the Hogwarts staff.

"Bastard," she said, and tried, half-heartedly, to push him away. Snape complied, smirking, pulling away from her. Alex changed tactics immediately and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh no you don't. It's the weekend, Snape—you're all mine."

**

* * *

**

_All mine... _With a start, Snape came back to the present. He stroked Alex's sunken, wrinkled cheek. The pale skin felt dry and papery under his fingers. Her hair had turned white while he daydreamed... But he could still save her. _Would_ save her.

An unwelcome image intruded into his mind; young Quirinus Quirrell in his ridiculous turban, possessed by the Dark Lord... Enslaved. Snape shook off the thought. "_Accio _Grimoire," he snapped. "_Accio _dagger." Why should he not bind her to him? There was nothing evil in his intent. It was the only way to save her life. Snape flipped open the tome that came sailing into the room at his command and scanned down the page, noting every detail. He gripped the ritual dagger in one hand, his wand in the other. "Alex. Wake up."

Grey eyes fluttered open. He helped her rise to her knees. She was silent as he chanted the words of the spell, her eyes trusting. She made no protest as he slashed his wrist with the dagger, even as he made the same deep gash in her own flesh and mingled their blood. He watched with satisfaction as his life force buttressed hers and her face grew youthful once again, her hair dark and glossy. "You are safe now," he told her. "You are mine. All mine. Forever and for always."

**

* * *

**

He was back at Hogwarts, in the circular office with its portraits of former headmasters ranged about the walls. The current headmaster smiled at him from his seat on the other side of the desk. "Lemon drop, Severus?"

Snape waved the offered bowl of sweets away. "I finished the potion last night, Headmaster. I expect to be summoned within the week to deliver it to the Dark Lord."

"This should do much to allay any suspicions about your loyalty to the Death Eaters." Dumbledore paused, his expression becoming grave, almost stern. "I agree that it was absolutely necessary for you to brew the poison as requested."

_Offering absolution_, Snape thought. He inclined his head, tacitly accepting the old man's forgiveness for the Unforgivable.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Snape steepled his fingers and regarded the Headmaster over them. The merry twinkle was back in those pale blue eyes. "Yes," Snape admitted with some reluctance. "My new, ah, assistant." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Miss Rose was snooping about in the dungeons last night. Somehow she breached my wards, caught me casting the curse... I found it necessary to remove her memory of the incident."

"Regrettable, but a needed precaution, under the circumstances."

"Just so." Snape schooled his features to hide any emotion, keeping his mental barriers firmly in place. _Her skin, so warm and soft under his fingers... Her heart pounding wildly as he'd pressed his body against hers... None of that,_ he told himself firmly, clamping down on the errant memories. There was no need for the Headmaster to know how close he'd come to assaulting the silly girl... No need for either of them to review the confession she'd almost drawn from him.

"I'll see you at dinner, then," Dumbledore smiled, ending the interview. "I have it on good authority that there'll be spotted dick for dessert."

"I can barely contain my enthusiasm," Snape said dryly. He could just imagine how the young American witch would react to that example of British cuisine!

He was halfway out the door when Dumbledore made a final comment. "Considering your new assistant's penchant for breaking down barriers, Severus... You had better keep your guard up from now on."

Snape looked up sharply. _Was that supposed to be some sort of innuendo?_ Dumbledore looked perfectly serious. Deciding to let it pass, he made a miniscule bow. "Believe me, headmaster, I will." _I most certainly will._

* * *

Snape lay still where he had fallen, listening. All was quiet in the room where Corwin and Locke's life and death struggle had taken place. He opened his eyes and turned his head cautiously at first, then sat up and looked around boldly. Locke, Corwin, Lucretia... They were all just as he remembered. _It was all a dream._ _No. The vision... The vision was real. _He scrambled across the floor to Alex, relieved to see that the unnatural aging process he'd imagined hadn't taken place. She stirred and woke as he lifted her from the floor. 

"Gods," she whispered, eyes darting over Locke's charred body, the children huddled, asleep, the dead nurse, eyes open and staring blankly. Snape supported her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. "My father... Is he—"

"He's alive."

"I feel so shaky." Alex ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it. "Gods, what a mess. We should move the children. They shouldn't see their father like this." She pushed Snape's hands away and stood on her own. "You should leave, Severus. I mean it," she insisted when he started to protest. "I'll keep your name out of it, somehow... I'll _obliviate_ Lucretia," Alex muttered to herself. "And the kids, maybe. I don't think the kids saw anything. Gods, we've got to get the kids out of here!"

"Alex." Snape took hold of her arm. "Listen to me. Your father performed another Dark ritual. He bound your life force to his."

"He's _dying_, Severus!"

"Exactly," Snape told her. "He cast the ritual in desperation. You are in grave danger."

"I don't believe it. How do you know?" Snape could read the concern in her eyes, even as she denied it.

"Cordelia saw it all," Snape said shortly. "In fact, she participated." Ignoring Alex's shocked protests, he summoned Locke's book, _The Tree of Life_, and the dagger, feeling an odd flash of disorientation when ritual weapon flew to his hand, the blade as yet unbloodied.

"Severus, what the hell are you going to do?" Paging through the grimoire, Snape didn't answer. Alex pulled the emerald out of the front of her blouse and held it up to the light. Just as in his dream, it was black. "Gods! What are you going to do?"

He crossed to the bed. Snatching the diamond pendant from Andrew Corwin's hand, he thrust it at Alex. "I'm going to counteract this," he snapped. "I'm going to bind your life force to mine." He turned the book so that she could see the spell.

"I'm not convinced that there's anything to counteract," Alex said slowly, scanning the page. "Why would you suddenly remember this particular vision, if it even was a true vision?"

"I'll explain later—"

"This is Dark magic," she interrupted, frowning at the spell book. "You haven't begun to think it through! You say my life force is bound to my father's. What good will it do you to add your life to the mix? Daddy's cancer is terminal."

"You aren't strong enough to keep him alive," Snape said impatiently. "Your life force will buy him some time... Days, perhaps. Or perhaps only hours. When your essence has been completely drained, you will both die."

"And if your essence is bound to mine, you'll die too!"

"My life force is intact, unlike yours," he argued. "I have thirty-seven years to add to the mix, as you put it. I'm strong, in my prime. I can keep you alive, for as long as it takes."

"For as long as it takes," Alex echoed. She shook her head. "This is crazy. You don't even have any proof that what you think you saw even happened."

He scowled at her. "Ask Cordelia."

"Cordelia!" Alex turned back to the bed. "_Mobilicorpus!_" The little girl's body rose with painstaking slowness, but bobbed along obediently enough as Alex directed it out sight of Locke's corpse.

Seething, Snape levitated Erich's sleeping form and followed Alex down the hall. "Now will you listen to me?" he demanded when the children were safely put to bed in their room. The nanny was lying on the floor, snoring. Corwin's sleep spell had obviously affected the entire house. Snape wondered again where the dying man had found the strength.

Alex turned and embraced him. He stood stiffly, refusing to respond. "I feel fine, Severus. A little weak is all, probably from the duel. From shock, maybe." She sighed, stepped away from him. "The police will have to be called... You really shouldn't be here when they arrive. I'll contact you later, once this mess is straightened out, okay?"

"I have pressing duties, back at Hogwarts," Snape said coldly. "It was my intent to leave soon, at any rate."

She sighed. "Have it your way. I'll try to firecall you tonight." She raised her face to his.

Snape bent and brushed his lips against hers. _Still warm,_ he thought. _Still young and lovely... _Perhaps it had all been nothing but a vivid dream. "Goodbye, Alex." He disapparated.

* * *

Chapter title courtesy of Usher. 


	18. Touch of Gray

With a loud crack, Snape appeared in the peaceful country wood somewhere to the west of Salem. The late afternoon sun painted the rustling leaves gold. Go to ground; always the first priority when plans went awry. He paced between the trees, taking the time to think things through logically. Was there time to create an alibi? Yes, Snape decided. Fixing the wizard's lobby of the Plaza Hotel in his mind, Snape disappeared once again.

Snape read the name tag pinned to the desk clerk's robes. "Good morning, Mr. Daltry."

Daltry looked momentarily confused at the greeting. Then Snape's silent _confundus_ charm took effect. "Good... er, morning, Mr. Snape."

"Have you any messages for me?" he asked.

"I don't believe so, Mr. Snape. Let me just check..." Fussily, the young clerk made a show of checking the message box for Snape's suite.

Daltry's officious little ritual allowed Snape time for a surreptitious wave of his wand. On the wall behind the desk, the gilt hands of the ornate walnut clock rotated backwards. Snape feigned avid interest as Daltry related some tedious anecdote, then drew his attention to the clock, which now stood at eleven in the morning. "That clock can't possibly be correct, can it? My, how the morning has flown."

"I guarantee that that clock is accurate to the very second, Mr. Snape. I wind it every day without fail. Perhaps the spell on your personal chronometer is running a bit slow?"

"No doubt," Snape agreed. "I have some reading I'd like to catch up on. Please see to it that I am not disturbed."

"Of course, Mr. Snape. The privacy of our guests is always my uppermost concern."

Snape strode around the corner and counted—slowly—to ten. The hands of the clock spun forward until it once again registered the correct time. "Good afternoon, Mr. Daltry."

The clerk blinked for a long moment. Then he relaxed. "I trust your afternoon was a peaceful one, Mr. Snape? No disturbances?"

"None whatsoever, Mr. Daltry, thank you." _Imbecile_, Snape thought with a sneer as he crossed the thirteenth floor lobby and stepped into the elevator.

The moving Muggle room took him smoothly to the main lobby on the first floor. By reflex, his eyes darted across the marble expanse, noting the clerk speaking into a telephone, a loitering bellhop, a mother and daughter sitting on an overstuffed divan next to a potted palm. He glanced past a short, stocky man in archaic clothing, unconcerned until a hand closed over his forearm. Snape jerked his sleeve out of the man's grasp, eyes widening in shock. He'd barely even noticed him! But now that he had, wasn't this the same man from Salem Park?

"Mr. Snape. I must speak with you."

Short. Stocky. Try as he might, Snape couldn't summon up any other details of the stranger's appearance, even as he confronted him face to face. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, strong as any potion he could brew, screaming at him to fight or flee.

"I'm a friend, Mr. Sna—"

"I doubt that," he snapped, cutting the man off. "State your business and be quick about it."

"You've been in contact with Alex Rose," the stranger said. "Please, I need to know--what is the situation at Corwin Manor?"

The wizard was hiding his true appearance, asking for information rather than providing it... He might even be trying to stall him. Whatever the stocky wizard was trying to sell, Snape wasn't buying. With a scowl, he brushed past him, disapparating the moment he'd reached the dubious shelter of another potted palm.

**

* * *

**

Snape lay sprawled on a sagging, lumpy mattress. Light from a neon sign outside the window outlined his features in an Unforgivable shade of green. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling, unlit. The flophouse stood only a short distance from the Plaza Hotel, geographically speaking, but at the very opposite end of the social spectrum. No one would think to look for him here.

Alex's insistence that he leave the scene of Locke's death had been good advice. Hogwarts certainly didn't need another scandal. The near-annual Defense Against the Dark Arts debacles were damaging enough. Snape's mouth settled into a sneer as he mentally ran through some of the more recent wizards to hold the post: a turbaned Death Eater, an amnesiac incompetent, a 'tame' werewolf...

His smirk faded at the thought of the _Daily Prophet _headlines if Lucretia Corwin Locke managed to blame him for the death of her husband. Albus Dumbledore had enough to worry about without the Head of Slytherin House being accused of the murder of a prominent American wizard. If it had been anyone else, it might be possible to keep the entire sordid matter quiet, Snape supposed with another sneer--New York was a long way from Scotland, after all. But no, not a scandal involving Severus Snape, accused Death Eater. The press would close in like Thestrals scenting blood.

It would be nice if Alex succeeded in her plan to _obliviate_ Lucretia and keep his name out of the whole affair... Not that Snape was counting on any such thing, thus the change of venue from the Plaza Hotel to his current lodgings. He ran over the possibilities in his mind. Alex might succeed; or Alex might fail; Lucretia should normally be no match for her, but in Alex's current frame of mind... The final option; Alex herself would turn him in for Locke's murder.

A cockroach scuttled down the wall—idly, Snape pointed his wand at it, shooting a thin beam of green light. The insect fell to the floor, twitched once, and was still.

Would Alex betray him? Snape took aim at another fat brown roach. It required barely any magical energy to kill such a small creature, and no hatred at all, only a half-conscious effort to focus some of the anger that always simmered just below the surface. Right now, it was anger at _her_, if Snape had wanted to admit it. Not for any half-expected betrayal—Snape let out another mirthless snort as he contemplated it—no, he wouldn't blame Alex if she did try to turn him in. He would make an all-too convenient scapegoat.

He supposed he ought to be relieved that Corwin hadn't bound her with the Blood Rites. He'd been so certain that the vision was a true one, convinced that Alex was in mortal danger. He'd offered his life to save her... And she had refused him.

Well, obviously, she'd been right. She didn't need saving. Didn't need him.

With the ease of long practice, Snape emptied his mind of emotion, focusing instead on the backup plans he'd been formulating since leaving Corwin Manor. Snape's bespoke-tailored Muggle suit had been transfigured to match his current surroundings. The trousers were filthy, threadbare, and sagged at the knees. The jacket, slung over the back of a chair, was patched at the elbows and frayed at the cuffs. The lapels were shiny with grease. Snape's nostrils twitched. He drew out his wand and dispelled the convincing odor of cheap whiskey from his body, but let the two day's worth of conjured beard stubble and the bleary, bloodshot eyes remain. He'd checked into the hotel under the name Neil Pierce—a down-on-his-luck Muggle. Snape chuckled, allowing himself a trace of amusement at the anagram. The desk clerk had been supremely uninterested in yet another drunken bum. The man wouldn't even remember him, come tomorrow.

Tomorrow... If Alex came through, he would simply apparate back home from the long-distance terminal beneath LaGuardia. If, instead, the police were looking for him, he had several options... Snape put a stop to that train of thought—for tonight, at least, he was safe.

He knew he ought to sleep... _No,_ Snape decided firmly, suppressing another flash of anger. Sleep meant visions of Alex. He didn't need to know what she was doing. A few more hours, and he would be far away. Too far to be troubled any longer by the link that had bound them together. He would return to his life, and she to hers.

Snape's eyes were drawn to another roach as it went about its nocturnal business. He fired off yet another silent _avada kedavra_ and resigned himself to a long night.

**

* * *

**

It was still hours before dawn when the Dark Mark on his arm flared to life, eliciting a hiss of pain. Snape sat up on the side of the bed and turned on the electric light switch with a flick of his wand. He pushed up his sleeve. In the harsh glare of the bare bulb, the skull and serpent burned black.

Snape knuckled his eyes. They felt gritty and dry; he was sure he hadn't fallen asleep. He tried to imagine what the Dark Lord could possibly be doing in New York City—surely not searching for him? Snape's stomach churned. Another stab of pain burned his arm and an image formed in his mind, sharp and clear. It was a part of the magic of the Summons... the Dark Lord would expect his Death Eaters to apparate instantly to his side, wherever he might be. And according to the picture in Snape's mind, he was expected to apparate to Andrew Corwin's basement potions laboratory.

He stayed utterly still, thoughts racing, clutching his arm until it burned a third time, even stronger, and the image of the white-tiled room with its stainless steel tables and shelves of cauldrons filled his mind's eye. Snape shook his head, unsure whether to laugh or to curse. Alex was Summoning him.

**

* * *

**

Alex's eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back as Snape appeared directly in front of her. She recovered quickly, frowning slightly in concern. "Gods, you look like hell. What happened to you?"

Snape realized that he was still wearing his down-at-the-heels disguise. He sketched a mocking bow, making no effort to dispell it. "I apologize if my appearance offends. I'm afraid I left my cloak and mask at home, Milady—"

"Don't be angry with me, Severus. You didn't answer any of the messages I left at your hotel. I was worried about you."

Her eyes met his, sincere. _But hardly innocent_, he thought. In marked contrast to his own appearance, she seemed to have made a special effort to look alluring. She wore the low-cut green gown he'd always favored, her hair flowing in loose waves around her shoulders. Her complexion was flawless, dewy, her cheeks faintly flushed as though with passion. Did she really think him so gullible?

Snape suppressed his triumph and continued the verbal banter. Timing was everything. He said, "Surely you've had other concerns to occupy your mind. Your father's passing, for one. My condolences, by the way," he added insincerely.

"He died at nine o'clock. How did you know?"

The fingers of Snape's right hand massaged his left forearm as he answered her. "The Summons." Snape hesitated. "It did come as some surprise to me that your father chose you as his heir," he ventured, "rather than your half-sister."

That got a response; her mouth twisted in anger and she paled. "Lucretia is not my sister!"

He moved in before she could say any more, stooping to cup his hands around her face. Her lovely, youthful face. One thumb traced across her cheekbone, a gentle gesture that left Alex speechless. Snape stepped back abruptly, scrutinized the pad of his thumb, held it out between them so that she could see the faint trace of rouge smeared there. "Andrew Corwin died at nine o'clock," he said softly. "And transfiguration has never been your area of expertise. By midnight it would already have been difficult for you to hide the ravages of the Blood Rites without the additional aid of cosmetics. It must be, what, two o'clock by now?"

"You don't need to gloat." Alex waved her wand, dispelling the illusion of youth. Snape watched the magic fade with all the professional detachment he could muster. Wrinkles creased Alex's skin like a parchment crumpled in an impatient fist, the lipstick she'd applied bleeding into the furrows that formed around her mouth. Her breasts sagged and liver spots bloomed on her forehead and the backs of her hands. Her hair remained dark. She'd dyed it, Snape realized. The color contrasted harshly with her aged complexion, accentuating every flaw. "Satisfied?" she asked sullenly. "You were right. Go ahead and say I told you so."

* * *

Chapter title courtesy of Robert Hunter. 


	19. It's my Life

"And now you want me to bind your fading life force to mine," Snape said coldly, suppressing his triumph. As she'd said, there was no need to gloat.

"Yes. No." Alex ran gnarled hands through her hair. "I don't know. Just-- Just enough to buy me some time," she said desperately.

"Enough time to get you to Albus Dumbledore," Snape nodded, lip curling in a reflexive sneer. _ Dumbledore will make everything right_. The thought was instantaneous, as instinctive as the resentment that inevitably accompanied it.

"Enough time to get to John," Alex contradicted. Snape scowled as she named her own mentor, John Chavez. She'd always spoken highly of the man, often comparing him to Dumbledore himself. Snape wasn't impressed; the Apache wizard was an unknown quantity and therefore not to be trusted.

"Suit yourself," was all he said, turning to a nearby table where Locke's grimoire had been laid out alongside Lucretia's diamond pendant and a black-handled ritual dagger. Flipping the tome open, he bent over it, one long, sallow finger running down the page as he read through the spell. The scowl he'd flashed at Alex faded, leaving a single furrow of concentration between his brows. He'd cast the spell in a dream, hastily, clumsily slashing his wrist and mingling his blood with Alex's. This was no dream, Snape reminded himself.

"This is Dark magic," Alex breathed, interrupting his thoughts as she stepped in close to him to read over his shoulder. Snape looked up sharply.

"Second thoughts, Miss Rose? _Accio_ vessel," he added, smirking as the exquisite little platinum cauldron he'd admired on his first night in the mansion flew to his hand. There was Alex's troublesome conscience again. Snape knew she'd have to go through with the ritual this time; her options were rapidly running out.

"It is Dark magic," he agreed, slipping into lecturing mode. "Dark, and very old. Primitive. The mingling of blood... Crude, but effective. Of course, we have no blood ties, you and I. If the Corwin and Prince bloodlines ever mingled, it was before recorded memory."

"Or the Rose and Snape bloodlines," Alex said with the ghost of a smile.

Snape suppressed an amused snort at the thought of any of Alex's haughty ancestors sullying their precious purity with a Muggle. Not bothering to correct her misconception, he went on, "The blood is merely a conduit for the life force itself Any bodily fluid will do." He began to unbutton his trousers. Alex's eyes widened.

"You're planning to turn me into a succubus? Sheesh, Severus." Her laugh betrayed a faint note of hysteria.

"Think about it—our bond is sexual, not familial. Not to mention, I'd rather not have to open a vein every time your life force might require bolstering. Altering the ritual allows us a more pleasant method of renewal, should it become necessary."

"Sexual," Alex repeated. "Gods, you're so offensive. You could at least say 'romantic'," she offered.

Snape ignored the comment, all his attention seemingly focused on his groin.

"Crude is right." Alex rolled her eyes as Snape began to masturbate, completely unconcerned by the presence of an audience. "You could at least turn your back."

"Turn yours, if my efforts to save your life offend you," he retorted.

"Oh, no, go right ahead. This is fascinating." Folding her arms across her chest, she watched him, tapping her foot, rheumy eyes bright with malice.

Snape ignored her, pumping his fist methodically. There was nothing erotic about the act; he was simply retrieving a necessary component of the spell. Certainly the old crone looking on did nothing for his libido. Fortunately the Dark Arts held their own allure, enough to quicken his pulse and allow him to do what was required. He stifled a grunt of satisfaction as his 'donation' spurted into the platinum cauldron. Tucking his member back inside his trousers, he suddenly lunged for Alex, catching the little witch by surprise.

Snape grabbed her by the arm, twisting it behind her back as he jerked her roughly toward him. His eyes narrowed as she cried out in pain. Belatedly, he realized how truly frail she'd become and eased his grip. He could see the realization in Alex's eyes as well. She didn't simply appear old; her vitality was fading as rapidly as her beauty had. No need to frighten her into compliance--the ritual was her last resort.

She stared up at him as he wrapped the chain of the diamond pendant around his fingers and began to chant the harsh, guttural syllables of the spell. Dipping the dagger into the miniature cauldron, he touched the flat of the blade to the fluttering pulse at the side of her neck, repeating the action at each wrist, the obsidian blade leaving a trace of pearly, viscous fluid behind. Still chanting, he pressed the blade against one withered breast, just over her heart. A silvery mist began to rise into the air between them, twisting languidly. Snape suppressed a gasp as an answering mist floated up from his own chest, twining around hers.

A sudden weakness threatened to overcome him. His features twisted, teeth baring in a snarl even as his breath came faster, bile rising in his throat. If he faltered now, the ritual would kill them both. Adrenalin raced through his veins. This was the allure of the Dark Arts—primal magical forces that threatened to destroy even as they seduced. It was his will, his discipline pitted against raw, eldritch power. He would not succumb to physical weakness. Legs braced, he hefted Alex's slight weight against his arm and kept up the chant, his voice clear and strong.

She'd swooned at some point, he noted clinically, probably when he'd called her fading essence from her body to mingle with his. Now he watched in fascination as the ravages of time were erased as if a Time-Turner were being employed before his eyes. Sunken cheeks grew plump again, sagging jowls firmed. Wrinkles smoothed, then disappeared entirely, skin resuming its silken texture. Her eyes fluttered open as he continued chanting the spell, more and more of that swirling silver mist streaming from his body into hers. It was Alex who broke off the contact, pushing him away with surprising force.

"Severus! What have you done?" She stared down at herself, her youth completely restored, then gaped at him as he sagged against the table. "Gods! How many years did you just take off your own life?" Her eyes were wide.

"As much as was necessary," he said, stepping away from the table and squaring his shoulders. Snape turned from Alex dismissively, hating that she should witness his moment of weakness. He started to reach for his wand, intending to _Scourgify_ the ritual implements from force of long habit. The lingering rubbery sensation in his legs made him think better of the notion. He left his wand, instead closing Locke's grimoire with a decisive thud.

"I thought you'd give just enough of your essence to keep me alive," Alex breathed. She'd returned to examining her own body, turning her hands in front of her face. "Gods," she repeated. "I look as if I haven't aged a day." Her eyes met his and he read mingled guilt and concern in her thoughts. "Severus, I'm a--a walking dead woman! What if there's no way to fix this?"

Snape let out a snort. "One might say that I have been a walking dead man for some time now," he pointed out. "Dying old and in my bed is a destiny only Sybill Trelawney would predict for me, Alex," he said dismissively. "I consider the risk minimal."

"You're crazy." She flung her arms around him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "You saved my life."

"Hardly." Snape set her aside firmly, feeling more in control of himself, the weakness passing rapidly, mercifully away. "I've bought you a certain amount of time, that's all. We need to get moving—now. What of Lucretia? The police? A delay would be most inconvenient."

""Lucretia's been taken care of," Alex said darkly. "And we'll be long gone before the police sort out what's happened. I would like you to--" She broke off abruptly as Snape stepped back with a curse. "Severus? What's wrong?"

------

Chapter title courtesy of The Animals.


End file.
